MOTHER'S MEMORIAL

OF A

DEPARTED DAUGHTER.

WITH AN INTRODUCTION

BY REV. ASA D. SMITH, D.D.

"To me to live is Christ."-PHIL. i, 21.

"That life is long, which answers life's great end."—YOUNG.

PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM COLLINS,
NORTH MONTROSE ST., GLASGOW,

AND PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.

210, m. 100.

LINES

ON RECEIVING A PORTRAIT OF OUR DAUGHTER, PAINTED AFTER HER DEATH FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE LIKENESS.

TRUE, life-like image, all the soul confessing!
To us, so sad and lone,

Like a bright sunbeam from a clime of blessing,
Where grief is all unknown!

Thy gentle look, thy timid, calm expression,
By magic art recalled,

Breaks on my sight with sweet but strange impression—
I stand with awe enthralled.

I gaze, and gaze, and while the heart's emotion
Is struggling to find vent,

A holy peace, a pure and high devotion,
Comes o'er me, Heaven-sent,

In that blest home my waking faith beholds thee,
Where Jesus bore thy soul;

His arm that carried safely, yet enfolds thee,
His love "hath made thee whole."

And evermore, when my poor weak affection,
Would call thee back to earth,

I'll tell my heart, thou'rt safe in his protection-
Knowledge of priceless worth!

And as I look on thee, I'll hear thee saying, ""Tis but a little while;"

In that sweet hope, for patience I'll be praying,
And thus my grief beguile.

Yes, thy dear image hath to me a mission;
Those eyes so mildly tell

Of hope, firm trust, and quiet, meek submission, "'Tis well!"

I, too, must say,

INTRODUCTION.

WHEN I was first permitted to read the substance of this little volume, it had taken the form only of such familiar reminiscences as might in coming years be precious and profitable to the bereaved domestic circle. No design was then entertained of giving it to the press. I was at once convinced, however, that the salutary influence it was fitted to exert, ought not to be confined within limits so narrow. Making all due allowance for feelings of friendship, and for pastoral sympathies-it having been my privilege to sprinkle on the head of the subject of this memoir the baptismal water, and to number her, for several of the first years of her life, among the lambs of my flockI could not but think, that something of the tearful interest with which I had myself dwelt on this simple and unexaggerated narrative, would be awakened in many other bosoms. This judgment of mine was variously confirmed, by him especially under whose highly esteemed ministry her Christian character was mainly formed. It is only from the pressure of such views, and, after all, with a reluctance which nothing but a sense of duty could overcome, that the following pages have received their present shape and publicity.