Now when we regard the departed of our homes in this light, shall we not admit that the death of those who go to heaven is a blessing, not only to them, but to those they leave behind!  And especially when we remember that they return to us in spirit to minister to our wants even unto the smallest details of life, that they are our guardian angels, are with, us wherever we go, to warn and deliver us from temptation and clanger, to urge us in the path of duty, to smooth our pillow when thrown upon beds of languishing, and then, when the vital spark has fled, to convey us to the paradise of God,—­oh, when we remember this, we say, shall we not rather bless God that He has afflicted us?  Though our hearts may be lonely, yet with this view of the departed ones of our home, we can feel that we are, nevertheless, not alone.

  “I am not quite alone.  Around me glide
    Unnumbered beings of the unseen world;—­
  And one dear spirit hovering by my side,
    Hath o’er my form its snow-white wings unfurled,
  It is a token that when death is nigh,
  It then will wait to hear my soul on high!”

What afflicted heart will not respond with deep and grateful emotion, to the following beautiful address of a bereaved pilgrim to his sainted loved ones in heaven:—­

  “Gone!—­have ye all then gone,—­
    The good, the beautiful, the kind, the dear? 
  Passed to your glorious rest so swiftly on,
    And left me weeping here?

  “I gaze on your bright track;
    I hear your lessening voices as they go;
  Have ye no sign, no solace to fling back
    To those who toil below?

  “Oh! from that land of love,
    Look ye not sometimes on this world of wo? 
  Think ye not, dear ones, in brighter bowers above,
    Of those you left below?

  “Surely ye note us here,
    Though not as we appear to mortal view,
  And can we still, with all our stains, be dear
    To spirits pure as you?

  “Is it a fair, fond thought,
    That you may still our friends and guardians be;
  And heaven’s high ministry by you be wrought
    With objects low as we?

  “May we not secretly hope,
    That you around our path and bed may dwell? 
  And shall not all, our blessings brighter drop
    From hands we loved so well?

  “Shall we not feel you near
    In hours of danger, solitude, and pain,
  Cheering the darkness, drying off the tear
    And turning loss to gain?

  “Shall not your gentle voice
    Break on temptation’s dark and sullen mood,
  Subdue our erring will, o’errule our choice,
    And win from ill to good?

  “Oh, yes! to us, to us,
    A portion of your converse still be given! 
  Struggling affection still would hold us thus,
    Nor yield you all to heaven!

  “Lead our faint steps to God;
    Be with us while the desert here we roam;
  Teach us to tread the path which you have trod,
    To find with you our home!”