thing more than these two thoughts give
us. It does not satisfy us to contemplate only rest from labor and the
perpetuated fruits of labor. And that something this same little volume
gives us in the words appointed for this day, on which we commit her
mortal part to the grave: "For God is not unrighteous to forget your
work and labor of love, which ye have showed toward His name, in that
ye have ministered to the saints and do minister. Be not slothful,
but followers of them who, through faith and patience, inherit the
promises." Here the veil is lifted, and we get the glimpse we want of
her inheritance and reward in heaven. She has inherited the promises;
such promises as these: "If children, then heirs, heirs of God, and
joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with Him, that we may
be also glorified together." "They shall hunger no more, neither thirst
any more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat; for the
Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead
them to living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears
from their eyes." "They shall see His face, and His name shall be in
their foreheads." "To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in
my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in
His throne."

Thus we commit this mortal body to the ground in hope, and with
assurances of victory. Oh, it is one of the most wonderful of facts,
that at the grave's very portal, amid all the tears and desolation which
death brings, we can stand and sing hymns of triumph--even that song
which, from the morning when the angels met Mary at the Lord's empty
supulchre, has been sounding over the graves of the dead in Christ--"O
death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of
death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law; but thanks be to God,
who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

How sweet, how impressive, is this scene! No wonder that we linger
here while Nature, at this evening hour, speaks to us so tenderly and
beautifully of rest. Even as yonder clouds break from the setting
sun, and are tinged with glory by its parting beams, so our sorrow is
illumined by this truth of the Resurrection. There is no terror in
death, and relieved by such a faith and hope, our thoughts are all of
peace, and flow naturally into the mould of those familiar lines:

"So fades a summer cloud away,
So sinks the ga