V. 



SUNDAY MORNING AND EVENING. 



" AND is it all over ?" 



" All over, Philip. The freshness of youth, the strength 

 of manhood, the wisdom of maturity, the feebleness of 

 age all are over; and in their place has come a calm, a 

 repose, so deep, so profound, that, to look on the old man 

 as he lies there this morning, you would not think he 

 could be roused by the trumpet of the angel." 



" And how died he ?" 



" As the good man always dies. He called his family 

 about him at the gray dawn of the Sabbath morning; and 

 they came, some from tearful watching, some from deep 

 slumber after last night's tears; and he spoke to them 

 words of sublime and holy import; and when his voice 

 grew feeble, he looked at them, and they said his face was 

 radiant with the light he saw but they saw not, only as 

 thus reflected ; and at length, as the first sun rays came 

 across the hill and through his window, and lit the room 

 with Sabbath lustre, he murmured, with broken voice but 

 not unmusical, 



' Oh happy harbor of God's saints,' 

 and then died." 



" What, said nothing after that ?" 



" Nothing, but he looked steadfastly into heaven, as if 

 he saw Stephen's vision ; and his white hand beat time to 



