The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 1, August, 1834Various
General
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 1, August, 1834
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Never will that scene be effaced from my remembrance: the expressive
features, and thrilling responses of the Patriarch, into whose expiring
body the soul returned with power, that it might leave this last
testimony of faith and hope to those whom he loved, are among the
unfading imagery of my existence. The spirit seemed to rekindle more
and more, in its last lingerings around the threshold of time. In a
tone, whose clearness and emphasis surprised us, the departing saint
breathed forth a blessing on those who surrounded him, "in the name of
that God, whose peace passeth all understanding."
There was an interval, during which he seemed to slumber. Whispers of
hope were heard around his couch, that he might wake and be refreshed.
At length, his eyes slowly unclosed. They were glazed and deeply sunken
in their sockets. Their glance was long and kind upon those who hung
over his pillow. His lips moved, but not audibly. Bowing my ear more
closely, I found that he was speaking of Him who is the "resurrection
and the life." A slight shuddering passed over his frame, and he was at
rest, for ever.
A voice of weeping arose from among the children, who had been summoned
to the bed of death. Ere I had attempted consolation, the lay-reader
with an unfaltering tone pronounced, "the Lord gave, and the Lord hath
taken away: _blessed be the name of the Lord._"
Deep silence ensued. It seemed as if every heart was installing him who
spake, in the place of the father and the governor who had departed. It
was a spontaneous acknowledgment of the right of primogeniture, which
no politician could condemn. He stood among them, in the simple majesty
of his birthright, a ruler and priest to guide his people in the way
everlasting. It was as if the mantle of an arisen prophet had descended
upon him, as if those ashen lips had broken the seal of death to utter
"behold my servant whom I have chosen." Every eye fixed upon him its
expression of fealty and love. Gradually the families retired to their
respective habitations. Each individual paused at the pillow of the
Patriarch, to take a silent farewell; and some of the little ones
climbed up to kiss the marble face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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