Page:A tribute to W. W. Corcoran, of Washington City (IA tributetowwcorco00boul).pdf/20

 might wander there to glorify Him "Who giveth and taketh away," and Who promiseth in their name, that he shall meet them again. This "come unto me" throws a shadow upon earth, whilst it brightens the portals of the sky! How tender and sad a feeling is kindled in our breasts as we stand amid the peaceful shades of Oak Hill, where so many that in life were noble and good, fair and beautiful, are "sleeping their last sleep!" There seems to flit before our gaze an angelic band, our mental eye straining to catch the last glimpse of the white robes, ere they vanish forever into the heavenly sphere. We see the sweet and gentle maiden, the loveliest flower of the household, going to prepare the way for the loved ones left behind—"the nursling from its mother's arms," a rose-bud to beautify the garden of our Lord—the matron, whose deeds of love on earth are her passport to the mansions of bliss—the young bride exchanging her wreath of orange blossoms for the coronal of heaven—the brave soldier, whose warfare being ended, puts on the armor of righteousness—the learned scholar, giving up the "lettered page" for the heavenly scroll, and countless others with brows bathed in glorious light, and whose wings bear them on to endless joys! With all this beauteous vision, there floats on the ear the soft, low music that was chanted over the remains of our loved ones, as the autumn leaves were being drifted down the vale, and the sun was setting in solemn beauty. "Rest, spirit, rest!" was mournfully echoed, but the thought of immortality has robbed it of its dirge-like cadence. Blest power of memory! Ye hath left an enduring legacy among the flowery walks of Oak Hill, in the costly memorials of granite and marble in the myrtle and blue-eyed periwinkle, creeping over many a grave, as if in humble love; in the faithful ivy entwining