since He hung upon that torturing Cross sorrow is
divine,--godlike, as joy itself. All that man's fallen nature dreads and
despises God honoured on the Cross, and took unto Himself, and blest and
consecrated for ever. . . . And now--Blessed are tears and shame,
blessed are agony and pain; blessed is death, and blest the unknown
realms where souls await the Resurrection-day.

_National Sermons_.

November.

"The giant trees are black and still, the tearful sky is dreary gray. All
Nature is like the grief of manhood in its soft and thoughtful sternness.
Shall I lend myself to its influence, and as the heaven settles down into
one misty shroud of 'shrill yet silent tears,' as if veiling her shame in
a cloudy mantle, shall I, too, lie down and weep? Why not? for am I not
'a part of all I see'? And even now, in fasting and mortification, am I
not sorrowing for my sin and for its dreary chastisement? But shall I
then despond and die?

"No! Mother Earth, for then I were unworthy of thee and thy God! We may
weep, Mother Earth, but we have Faith--faith which tells us that above
the cloudy sky the bright clear sun is shining, and will shine. And we
have Hope, Mother Earth--hope, that as bright days have been, so bright
days soon shall be once more! And we have Charity, Mother Earth, and by
it we can love all tender things--ay, and all rugged rocks and dreary
moors, for the sake of the glow which _has_ gilded them, and the
fertility which will spring even from their sorrow. We will smile
through our tears, Mother Earth, for we are not forsaken! We have still
light and heat, and till we can bear the sunshine we will glory in the
shade!"

_MS._ 1842.

Sympathy of the Dead. November 1.

Believe that those who are gone are nearer us than ever; and that if (as
I surely believe) they do sorrow over the mishaps and misdeeds of those
whom they leave behind, they do not sorrow in vain. Their sympathy is a
further education for them, and a pledge, too, of help--I believe of
final deliverance--for those on whom they look down in love.

_Letters and Memories_. 1852.

Nature's Parable. November 2.

There is a devil's meaning to everything in nature, and a God's meaning
too. As I read nature's parable to-night I find nothing in it but hope.
What if there be darkness, the sun will rise to-morrow; what if there
seem chaos, the great organic world is still living and growing and
feeding, unseen by