And so he is gone, the darling,
And the dream so fair and vain,
Whose light has faded to darkness,
We shall never dream again!
Never? Is the earth the limit
To bright and beautiful hope?
If the world brings not fruition,
Must we in darkness grope?
O no! There is expectation
Which the grave can not control;
There is boundless infinite promise
For the living and deathless soul.
And the darling who left us early
May yonder grow a man;
In deeds of the great hereafter
He may take his place in the van.
O, if thine is the bitterest mourning,
Mourning for an only son,
Believe that in God, the Giver,
Our darling his course begun;
Believe that in God, the Taker,
His course forever will be;
For this is the blessed comfort,
The comfort for thee and me.
Yea, this is the blessed comfort
In sorrow like that of yore,
When the beautiful "flowers of the martyrs"
Went to bloom on another shore.
* * * * *
LII.
LA FAYETTE.
(BORN 1757--DIED 1834.)
THE FRIEND AND DEFENDER OF LIBERTY ON TWO CONTINENTS.
In the year 1730 there appeared in Paris a little volume entitled
"Philosophic Letters," which proved to be one of the most influential
books produced in modern times.
It was written by Voltaire, who was then thirty-six years of age, and
contained the results of his observations upon the English nation, in
which he had resided for two years.
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