unwearied ministry which gives its music to the sweet word home. When She departs, that word loses its meaning, and we begin to thu?k of heaven as home because she is there.
She bears with bur sins and carries our sorrows. She is wounded for our transgressions. She is our guardian angel, not unseen, but moving and breathing by our side* Our earliest tasks are encountered at her bidding. Our first ambitions are kindled by her smile. We aspire after nobleness because she expects it from us. We itand off from baseness that we may not bow her head in shame. If she approves us the whole world may hiss, and we shall not heed it If she condemns us the applause of nations cannot redeem us from self-contempt Her blessing is as the sun when he calls forth the morning. Her censure is as the stroke of an angel's sword If through loss of honour we have lost her love and trust, fate has emptied its quiver on us. It has no other arrow left. If we have blessed and sheltered her, all things combine to comfort us. If we have wronged and defiled her, our hell has begun already. A mother, a sister, a wife,—a daughter,—what magic dwells in those tender names. Blot them out and the world would be for us only a heart-breaking wilderness, and life a bitter weed which we would gladly cast away.
'Tis hers to curb the passions' maddening sway
And wipe the mourner's bitter tear away:
Tis hers to soothe when hope itself has fled,
And cheej with angel smile the sufferer's bed;
To give to earth its charm, to life its zest,
One,, only task to bless and to be blest.
