The Path of Duty, and Other StoriesCaswell, Harriet S. (Harriet Sophia)
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The Path of Duty, and Other Stories
Caswell, Harriet S. (Harriet Sophia)
Country life -- Fiction; Family -- Fiction; Friendship -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Short stories
Near the close of his sermon, he said: "I presume many of you are aware
that I deem it unnecessary as well as unwise, on occasions of this kind,
for a minister to dwell at length upon the life and character of the
deceased, for, as I have before said, our duty is with the living; but
upon the present occasion, I think I may with propriety say, that we see
before us the lifeless remains of one who has 'died in the Lord.' I have
been for many years acquainted with our aged sister now departed, and
have ever regarded her as an humble and earnest christian. I have
frequently visited her during her lengthened period of suffering; and
have felt deeply humbled for my own want of resignation to the ills of
life, when I observed the exemplary manner with which this aged woman
bore her sufferings, which at times were very severe; and more than
this, I stood by her dying bed, which I can truly say presented a
fore-taste of heavenly triumph."
At the close of the service permission was given for any one who was
desirous of so doing to look upon the "corpse," and with many others I
drew nigh the coffin. I had been told that the habitual expression of
her countenance was one of pain, and I was surprised by the calm and
peaceful expression which rested upon the face of the dead. There was no
sign of past suffering visible; and the idea of perfect rest was
conveyed to my mind, as I gazed upon her now lifeless features. When the
strangers had all retired, the relatives and near friends drew nigh to
take their last sad look of the aged one who in life had been so dear to
them. It seemed that her age and utter helplessness had all the more
endeared her to her children and other friends; and many of them wept
audibly as they retired from the coffin. As the coffin was borne from
the church, the choir sung in subdued tones, accompanied by the solemn
notes of the organ, the beautiful hymn commencing with the lines,
"Thou art gone to the grave but we will not deplore thee,
Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb;
The Saviour hath passed through its portals before thee,
And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom."
When the long procession reached the church yard, the coffin was
lowered to its final resting place, and the Burial Service was read by
their pastor, and most of the company departed to their homes. I know
not how it was, but, although a stranger to the deceased, I was among
the few who lingered till the grave was filled up. That funeral
impressed me deeply; and has often since recurred to my mind, amid the
cares and turmoil of after life.
THE RAINY AFTERNOON.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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