Piety in Age [pp. 278-279]

PIETY IN AGE.
some of her thousand forms, the great mass are blind
worshipers at her shrine. Thus impelled, our own
sex struggle for what is falsely called independence,
narrowing their sphere of duty, and subjecting every faculty to this all-absorbing motive. Is it to be
doubted, then, that the value of our example is lessened, when those who look to us for protection
and counsel find so little sympathy with the nobler
elements of their nature? How important, therefore, to guard your hearts from the intrusion of
selfishness, to check, in its origin, the growth of
every thing sordid, to cultivate the holy charities
of life, even if you are compelled to nurture them
with your tears! But, above all, imitate those of
your sex who were last at the cross, and the first
at the sepulchre. Their devotion to their Master
overpowered every other feeling: it sprung from
the deep fountain of grateful, because sanctified
hearts, communing with the unseen, in all the certainty of faith, and the blessed assurance of Christian hope. A charm was thus imparted that pervaded their whole conduct, exhibiting, in the beautiful simplicity of their lives, unaffected piety, noble fortitude, ceaseless benevolence.
These are the crowning glories of woman. How
priceless, how peerless, because eternal treasures!
To estimate them would be to measure the value
of the soul. Our places must soon be filled by
others: your destiny is yet before you-the exalted position of woman to influence her age. Bear
the proud honor meekly but firmly, and like the
golden flower that turns toward the sun, alike at
his setting as his rising, you will ever reflect the
image of your God.
Original.
0 r i g i n a 1.
PIETY IN AGE.
How beautiful is the aspect of piety in age!
One picture of this sort, witnessed in my childhood,
is still fresh in my memory-having been often recalled by some occasional similarity, and cherished
by the esthetic sense of delight which it affolbrded
me. It was much the custom in the Church which
I attended to hold the funeral services within the
sanctuary. On these occasions, the congregation
generally would assemble there; whilst more particular friends would call at the house of the deceased, and, following the bier in procession, accompany the mourners to the church. There was
much solemnity and impression in this scene. The
edifice was a purely Gothic structure, sombre, spacious, beautiful. And the officiating priest, who
was a tall, fair, serious, and majestic man, appareled in his "white robe," preceded the corpse
into the church, giving forth, as he entered, the
words so philosophically beautiful: "Man, that
is born of a woman, is of few days and full of
trouble:" "he grows up like the grass, and is cut
down," &c. And then, in a voice of trust and
consolation, adding, "I am the resurrection and
the life: he that believeth on me shall not perish,
but shall save his soul alive." The voice of the
clergyman was particularly fine, and its intonations of solemn feeling seemed communicated to
every bosom-that numerous, low-breathing congregation were all hushed as in contemplative awe.
On the particular occasion which I would describe, the deceased was a very aged lady, much
venerated for her lovely dispositions and her piety.
Whilst her place had been amongst the highest in
the land, a Christian lowliness, and a "preferring
of others," had left to her only love, and never
envy. She had buried all her children years before. Her aged companion still survived. They
had for many years fallen into poverty and decay.
But a youth, their grandson, worthy of the heritage
of piety which had descended upon him, nobly sustained them in age, making a small salary suffice
for the support of the three. It is quite usual in
that country (New England) to bestow any little
office, affording pecuniary recompense, upon such
as, being worthy, most need it. And this aged
gentleman, now about fourscore, had for many
years officiated as clerk for the Church. On this
day (and I can see him now) he preferred, as usual,
to give out the hymn himself, the words of which
were appropriate to the occasion. I remember,
when he first arose, that his voice faltered and
broke. He ceased for an instant, but as the sentiment of the song changed from lamentation to triumph, his voice became fervent and sustained-he
raised his head and sung the whole hymn. Also,
there was chanted to the organ, "I know that my
Redeemer liveth." I can now see the whole scene.
It was rather late of an autumn afternoon: the
season was becoming cold, and the sun lay aslant
on the grave-yard behind the church. The old
gentleman's pew, near to a window, left him rather
exposed to the air. I recollect his upturned, venerable face, whilst he sung, and his thin, silvery
hairs floating on the breeze. He seemed lifted by
faith above his sorrows; yet ever a slow tear-sad
witness of humanity and love-coursed down his
cheek.
Anon the services are closed-the bier is lifted
to the church-yard-the coffin is lowered to its
place-"dust to dust" is said, and the burial is
over.
I was then a child of nine years; yet every thing
here engaged my attention. The circumstance of
this old couple's being cherished acquaintances of
my parents, and also their having been my godparents, together with the natural reverence which
children-if taught it-feel for death, all served to
engage and fix my regards; and, young though I
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