"The saints on earth, and all the dead,
But one communion make."
They constitute our guardian angels; they witness our Christian race; they
commune with our spirits; they link us to the spirit-world; they impress us
with its deep mysteries; they stimulate our religious life, and bear us up
lest we dash our feet against the pebble which lies in our pathway to the
mansions of the blest. The mother who bends in the deep anguish of her
soul, over the little grave in which her infant slumbers, has in heaven a
cherub spirit to minister to her. And oh, could the veil which wraps the
spirit-world from our view, be now removed, and we permitted to catch a
glimpse of the heavenly scene there displayed, we should doubtless behold
on the threshold of that better home, an innumerable host witnessing with,
intensity of interest, the scenes of human life; and no doubt to you,
bereaved friend, the most conspicuous among that celestial throng, would be
the sainted form of that dear one whose grave you often adorn with the warm
tribute of memory's gushing tears. And oh, could you understand the
relation in which that sainted one stands to you, you would doubtless be
conscious that over and about you it hovers from day to day as your
guardian spirit, watching all the details of your life, soothing the
anguish of your troubled heart, and ministering unto you in holy things!
"The spirits of the loved and departed
Are with us; and they tell us of the sky,
A rest for the bereaved and broken-hearted,
A house not made with hands, a home on high!
They have gone from us, and the grave is strong!
Yet in night's silent watches they are near;
Their voices linger round us, as the song
Of the sweet skylark lingers on the ear.
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