I saw, then, how idle were my griefs; that I had acquired _the
thought_ of each object which had been taken from me; that more
extended personal relations would only have given me pleasures which
then seemed not worth my care, and which would surely have dimmed my
sense of the spiritual meaning of all which had passed. I felt how
true it was that nothing in any being which was fit for me, could long
be kept from me; and that, if separation could be, real intimacy had
never been. All the films seemed to drop from my existence, and I was
sure that I should never starve in this desert world, but that manna
would drop from Heaven, if I would but rise with every rising sun to
gather it.
In the evening I went to the church-yard; the moon sailed above the
rosy clouds,--the crescent moon rose above the heavenward-pointing
spire. At that hour a vision came upon my soul, whose final scene last
month interpreted. The rosy clouds of illusion are all vanished; the
moon has waxed to full. May my life be a church, full of devout
thoughts end solemn music. I pray thus, my dearest child! "Our Father!
let not the heaviest shower be spared; let not the gardener forbear
his knife till the fair, hopeful tree of existence be brought to its
fullest blossom and fruit!"
* * * * *
TO THE SAME.
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