The sepulchres of our departed

Front matter

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THE

SEPULCHRES

Preface

In presenting this offering, it is proper that the author should accompany it with a brief statement of the reasons which were influential in its preparation.

It is certainly to be regretted, that the earthly resting places of the dead are so frequently found in a condition of dilapidation and neglect. A grave in ruins is such a mournful spectacle that it saddens the heart, and throws additional terrors around death. It fills us with thoughts so gloomy and distressing, that we turn from it with pain, and lose the influence of those cheering and softening emotions, which should be evoked in our visits to the sepulchre. The tombs of our sainted ones should be ranked among our sacred things. They deserve to be cherished and guarded with religious concern. And so fully is the writer persuaded of the importance of cultivating a devout regard for the depositories of the dead, that he has prepared this work with a view to direct attention to the subject, and to contribute something to deepen and encourage a feeling which affection inspires and religion sanctifles.

(vii)

Vlll PREFACE.

Another object contemplated in the preparation of this vokime has been, to assist the bereaved to improve their afflictions for permanent spiritual good. It is designed to be a companion for the sorrowing. It is an attempt to administer the oil and balm of the Gospel to wounded hearts; to diminish the weight of grief, and alleviate the pains of separation entailed upon us by the death of friends; and to reconcile shrinking Nature to its inevitable fate, by giving expression to those considerations of hope, of peace and glory, which Christianity throws around the ashes of our departed.

But the author indulges the hope, that while it will subserve the purposes indicated, it may also be interesting and profitable to those who are free from the pressures and pains of affliction. For the topics discussed are so vitally connected with the great interests of man here, and so intimately blended with his destiny hereafter, that clothed with the light of hope, they constitute pleasant themes for meditation with those who are looking forward to a happy immortality.

Hagerstown, Feb. 17, 1854,

Grave-yards and Cemeteries, or the Claims of the Dead upon the Living, and the Care which should be bestowed upon the Places of their Repose 421

THE

SEPULCHKES OF OUR DEPARTED.

Chapter First. Communion Avith The Past

** Voice after voice hath died away,

Once in my dwelling heard ; Sweet household name, by name hath chang'd

To grief's forbidden word !

From dreams of night on each I call,

Each of the far remov'd ; And waken to my own wild cry —

Where are ye, my belov'd?"

It is the dictate of philosophy and religion to cherish the memories which bind us to the past. To turn occasionally from the stirring scenes around us, to hold communion with the persons and events of that silent world which follows on the march of time, is alike profitable and pleasant. For if judiciously controlled, this intercourse of the thoughts with that w^hich has been, assists us in estimating and appreciating that which is, while it qualifies us 2 (13)

li COMMUNION WITH THE PAST.

for that which is to come. The past is an immense depository, where bygone ages have stored their treasures. Thither should the living repair, to gather the gold of experience and the gems of wisdom. Lessons of rare value may be gleaned from the written scroll of time. For it is only after we have surveyed the ample page of history, and wandered along that great highway which begins in Eden, and upon which the world's population has journeyed for six thousand years, and carefully studied the monuments of their intellectual and moral triumphs, that we learn the capabilities of the human mind. And it is in like manner from attentively contemplating the trials and misfortunes which those who have gone before us encountered and overcame, that we may gather fortitude to arm ourselves for life's conflicts, and wisdom to derive lasting good from the adversities incident to our earthly pilgrimage. The traveller who has crossed the Alps, or traversed the desert, may, by his recorded experience, greatly benefit others, who, from choice or necessity, undertake a similar journey.

But it is not so much upon distant ages that we would fix our meditations, nor yet hold communion with the distinguished of remote periods, as to call up those with whom we once held sweet counsel, and whose forms are still enshrined in the sanctuary of our souls. And that it is in accordance with the Divine will that we should sometimes be occupied in such exercises, seems manifest from the nature of our mental and moral constitutions. Our benevolent Creator has bestowed upon us an organization which neither limits

US to the present, nor makes us exclusively dependent upon surrounding objects, for all our enjoyments. He has endowed us with memories of such retentive energies, that all the events, painful or pleasant, which make up the record of our experience, and all the persons with whom these are associated, are summoned at our pleasure before the mind. Upon the ample pages of that faculty which keeps us apprized of what we have known and felt, are painted with great accuracy all the joyous scenes of youth. And in that group of pictures which impressed themselves there, in all the vivid colorings of the spring-time of life, there is not one that we would willingly efface. Those rural scenes, amid which we spent the morning of our existence, have left such delightful impressions, that they are contemplated with satisfaction up to the evening of our life. Those noble mountains in whose deep shadows we have wandered, and those blooming vales where flowed the crystal stream on w^hose moss-covered banks we innocently gamboled, and those fountains from which we drank refreshing draughts, can never be forgotten. And to remember the companions who shared in the enjoyment of those scenes, and participated in the amusements of our childhood, not as men and women, but as children clothed in their innocence and beauty, is a pleasure of which we would be reluctantly deprived.

But above all, would we deplore the loss of those images of dear departed ones, which are so distinctly engraved upon the tablets of memory, and with whom the most interesting reminiscences of our life are associated. Although days,

16 COMMUNION WITH THE PABT.

and months, and years may have elapsed since inexorable death bade us surrender the bodies of cherished ones to the grave, and their spirits to God, yet are they still present to our minds, beautiful and life-like. And who does not realize a melancholy pleasure in recalling departed ones, be their images clothed with the innocence and loveliness of youth, or marked by the cares and sorrows of age ? And are not those hours of solitude, which the bereaved people with the recollections and endearments of other days, refreshing to them, as pilgrims, who are hastening onward to that blissful inheritance, where those move and shine who were once fellow-travellers on earth ? So sacred are the memories which come thronging from departed joys, and so fragrant with the odors of crushed hopes, that the mother from whose crown of rejoicing has been plucked her brightest jew^el, often w^ithdraws herself from the circle of the living, to hold communion with him whose voice is no more heard, and whose seat around the hearth is no longer filled. Ay, those are holy moments, when at least in thought she presses her loved one to her throbbing bosom. And far dearer and richer in enjoyment than all the excitements of worldly pleasure, are such seasons of retirement and meditation to her, who was scarcely appareled in her bridal robes, before a mysterious, but wise providence bade her assume the weeds of mourning. And infinitely more precious than the golden offerings of earth are those moments to her, when alone she recalls the manly form of the noble husband, to whom she had fondly and securely clung, as the frail forest vine clings to the sturdy oak. And in like manner does the hoary-headed sire, who is ascending the last heights of the '' delectable mountains," where strains of celestial melody come hastening on the air, and the sky is tinged with the brilhant hues of that glory into which he hopes soon to enter, find pleasure in communing wdth those w^ho have long shice quitted the turmoils of earth, and gone to that abode of peace, "where the weary are at rest." And such is the tendency in all whose faculties are not paralyzed and w^hose sensibilities are not blunted, that it may be truly affirmed that nature and religion admonish us not to forget or neglect the departed.

There are also many to whom there is little left but departed joys. And it is a distinguished favor and a mercifid provision of our heavenly Father, that human hearts can re-live and re-enjoy forever all that was beautiful and good in the annals of personal experience. It is upon that which memory supplies from scenes fled forever, in connection wdth that which hope furnishes from the future, that some hearts live. For there are not a few to whom the present, with all its activities and excitement, is void of pleasure. Persons whose known and felt duties are discharged in a manner which indicates very clearly that the springs of action have received a stunning blow, and that the affections are somewhere else. Go wdth me to that mansion externally embellished wi,':h all the marks of affluence, and w^ithin gorgeously furnished with all the comforts and decorations which a refined taste could suggest and wealth command, and what do 2^ we see ? An air of silence and of gloom pervades those halls once filled with light and joyous hearts. Behold the mistress of that palace, formerly so brilliant and happy, now so sad and pale. All her movements are mechanically performed ; and her conversation is destitute of spirit. Why is that brow, where once played the light of hope, shrouded with care? Why are those eyes from which gleamed a constant sunshine, so dim with much weeping? And why is that countenance, once wreathed in winning smiles, now covered with a fixed and oppressive sadness? O ! it is the blight of death which has fallen upon that home, and its shadow still lingers upon its inmates. That mother is often missed by the members of the household ; and when sought, is found by that little bed in which the loved one last slept, or seated by that drawer in which she had deposited the memorials of her departed ; and one by one she looks over the toys which had amused her child, and the garments which it wore, and the golden locks which adorned his brow while living. These are links of communication between the living and the dead ; they are silent messengers recalling many kind w^ords, affectionate smiles, and pleasant endearments, in w^hich this bereaved one once dehghted. Wearily pass the hours, and heavily does the day w^ear away, for a weighty sorrow clogs the w^heels of time.

And as the light of day withdraws, and the quiet evening brings the husband from the scenes of his toil, it is not the cheerfulness of other days which irradiates his countenance as he enters his home. For he hears no little footsteps pat-

COJVIMUNION WITH THE PAST. 19

tering over the hall to greet him with their childish welcome. He is solemn and thoughtful. . A shade of sadness steals over his features, while involuntary sighs rise from out the holiest depths of his being. Those merry voices of innocents which were w^ont to thrill his soul are all hushed ; and those sounds which were to him the sweetest earthly melodies that could greet his ear, have died away, and he only hears their faint echoes reverberating through the chambers of memory. Distant and indistinct, yet charming his thoughts away to the period when his circle was unbroken, and no lamb w^as missing from the flock. And not only does the deserted place of the hearth remind them that their home has lost some of its attractions, but their desolateness of heart, and the suggestions of the things around them, bid those bereaved parents to seek comfort in communion with the past. Nature, in her varying aspects, wakens remembrances of other days, and, therefore, inculcates the same lesson.

Spring, bright, beautiful spring, comes with its soft wnnds, its singing birds, and blooming flowers. But fitted as this season is to inspire delightful feelings, and aw^aken pleasant emotions ; the year in its youth also brings with it, fresh recollections of the departed. It is suggestive of painful reminiscences, so that w^hile it loosens the fetters of the icebound streams in nature, and sends them laughing on their way ; it also opens afresh the fountains of grief in human hearts by the remembrances which it brings. For it tells us of those v»rho were arrayed in the freshness and loveliness of the spring-time of life, but who faded before the blossom had been succeeded by the fruit. And while the melodies of sweet warblers are floating on the air, they remind us of accents, which shall no more be uttered on earth. The flowers which we had planted, spring up to reward our labor. We had their seeds brought from a foreign clime, we cherished and tended them, and now, as if with gratitude to the eyes that w^atched them, and the hands that cultivated them, they wake into life under the Warm breath of the southwind, and unfold their delicate leaves to the kissing sunbeams, while they bathe the atmosphere with their delicious fragrance. But these are also links which bind us to the past, because emblems of our faded glory. They seem endowed with speech; for their unsullied purity, their delicate structure, their sweetness and their frailty, all vividly picture to our minds those flowers which the hand of heaven had planted in the garden of our home, but which had scarcely bloomed before they withered. Thus it happens, that this season, flushed with so many beauties, and radiant .with so many joys, carries us back to the period, when hands now mouldering in the dust gathered with us the violet and the lily, and hearts, now still, beat warm to ours, as together we rested by the warbling brook, or rejoiced in rambles through field and forest. Blessed, joyous days were those ! And blessed be God, that we can recall those scenes, and feel those joys which then flowed in untroubled streams through the channels of our being !

And as the flowery and joyous spring rolls into the golden summer, we find new monitors to connect our meditations with summers and friends long since gone. The golden harvests remind us of those, who were brought to the grave — ^'Like as a shock of corn cometh in his season," full of days and honors. The ripe grain and matured fruits of the earth, speak of venerable parents, "who having served their day and generation according to the will of God, fell asleep and were gathered to their fathers." And while this season revives recollections of the aged good, and those who were cut down in the midst of life loaded with such honors as a grateful people can bestow ; it also brings to our remembrance those buds of promise which were early transplanted to that clime where no withering winds blow, and no burning suns consume, but where eternal youth clothes the immortals.

And as we are ushered into autumn with its sered foliage, the countless deaths which we witness in expiring nature cause us to think of the beloved who have passed away as the grass of the field, and whose glory has faded as the flower of the grass. And while emotions of regret are kindling within us, the mournful sighings of autumnal winds through the stubble and naked shrubbery breathe notes of sadness which symphonize with the music of our bereaved hearts. The leaves quivering for a moment in the sharp blast, then rustling through the boughs in their descent to the earth, proclaim the frailty of man. "For we do all fade as the leaf." And in the lofty oak stripped of its foliage and stretching its bare arms out towards heaven as if in supplication that the few leaves which yet tremble on its branches might be spared by the gale, we have a fit emblem of many a parent who hke Jacob of old utters his touching complaint, "Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and now would ye also take Benjamin away ? All these things are against me."

And thus also when winter comes, it too calls up thoughts of the departed. As the mother composes her little ones to rest, and draws around them the curtains to shield them from the cold air, she thinks of those who sleep far away in the silent grave, over whom the night winds blow, and for whom the drifting snow forms the only covering. And when seated around the cheerful fire, we do not blame her for dropping those silent tears as she muses on the past. And how painfully do those festival occasions, the happy Christmas, and the merry New Year, remind us all of those who once participated in the innocent amusements of those seasons ! Those time-honored festivals seem invested with a sort of enchantment which peoples the hour with all those with whom we ever enjoyed sweet fellowship. I know not why, but to my mind there is a mysterious influence connected wuth the recurrence of Christmas which irresistibly attracts me to kindred souls. As the shades of the evening gather around me, I seem to hear the fond inquiries and kind greetings of absent friends as they were wont to break upon my ears, and thoughts of other days come thronging back upon my mind like spirits from a distant tomb ; — thoughts, some bright and beautiful as the images of angels, and others robed in gloomy apparel, and breathing soft notes of melancholy through my soul. And in that hour the veil of oblivion is lifted and I see all my past life opened to my view, and each recurrence of this festival stands radiant with those joys with which my happy childhood crowned it.

And prompted by those yearnings of my spirit for kindred souls, I exclaim, '' 0, that I had the wings of a dove," then would I fly to my distant loved ones. I would hasten to greet my aged father at his fireside, and breathe a prayer at his knees. I would pass from home to home, until I had mingled in the joys or sorrows of all whom my soul loveth. I would leave those earthly abodes and ascend into heaven, and seek among the armies of the skies my dear sainted ones, and commission one of those sons of light to wing his flight to all my beloved, and shake upon their happy circles odors borne fresh from the paradise of God. But as it is only in thought that I can obey these impulses of my being, I never fail on those occasions to breathe the prayer, that He who was born in Bethlehem, may be born in every heart, and find a home in every family; and that the myrrh and incense of grateful souls may be poured upon the altar of Him, who assumed our nature, that we might share his glory. And while such feelings and yearnings are not peculiar to an individual, but shared in common by all whose sensibilities are alive to the force with which the law of association operates, it is not marvellous that on such occasions our sainted friends should be more vividly presented to us, than at any other time. And it is therefore not singular that, while we make our little gifts to those whom a kind Providence still continues with us, the images of those who have gone to heaven should be frequently recalled. And then, and then only, can we realize the extent of that void which the removal of one little cherub produces. It has been beautifully said, " that nothing on earth casts so long a shadow as the little coffin." And small as are those graves which hold their infant remains, they are sufficiently capacious, to gather within their embrace the dearest joys and fondest hopes of parental hearts. Ye blest little slumberers, ye know not how you fill our thoughts, and blend with all our feelings — how our affections now linger around your precious dust, and now rise to your blissful abode on high.

That very interesting associations are kept alive with the departed, that kind feelings are fostered, and that the most tender recollections of them linger in the memories of the living, is abundantly manifest from the many testimonials of undying affection which adorn the places of their repose.

Laurel Hill Cemetery, that charming city of many dead, will furnish us with illustrations of this truth. Often have I regarded with admiration the efforts of survivors, as exhibited within that sacred enclosure, to perpetuate the remembrance of those who w^ere dear to them. There we meet with many tokens which eloquently express the language of wounded, but loving hearts. There is one little grave there, on which the figure of a lamb, in a state of repose, speaks to us the thoughts which are cherished of the innocence, gentleness, and rest of the slumberer. There is another, w^here stands the guardian angel with his eye fixed upon the slumbering dust ; thus imaging the security and happiness of the departed.

and reminding the survivors that their sainted are under the guardianship of angels, and the companions of those blessed spirits who minister to the heirs of salvation. And there, too, has the sculptor's chisel fashioned out of marble the rose-bud, and the half-blown flower, broken from the parent stem and fallen to the earth. And there, also, lies separated from the stock, the lily, as fresh and white as though it had just dropped. Again, we behold the well-formed urn, the broken shaft, the anchor and the cross, all appropriate and significant symbols, speaking the language of affection, of regret, and of hope, from living and loving hearts. And still more delicate and touching offerings of friendship are seen, in the many vases and wreaths of choice flowers which are daily laid upon the tombs. These tokens of affection assure us that warm hearts fondly throb around those places where beloved ones repose. Even that stranger who sought and obtained a resting-place on the verge of that bank laved by the gentle Schuylkill, is not forgotten, for his grave is often fragrant from the tributes furnished by delicate hands.

And not only may we learn from the attractive manner m which these tombs are adorned, but also from their inscriptions, that their inmates were loved, and that they are remembered. The value of these chaste and costly monuments is frequently enhanced by the sublime sentiments v;hich constitute their records. Let us pause a moment before some of these memorials of departed worth, and examine the inscriptions dictated by piety and affection. There is the stately 3

26 COMMUNION y/ITH THE PAST.

pile which marks the resting-place of the philanthropist, and we read —

'' A friend to the fatherless, and his bounty caused the widow's heart to sing for joy."

'' The blessing of those who were ready to perish, came upon him."

There is the tomb of a beloved parent, with this inscription :

^' Our mother sleeps ! when will the morning dawn ?"

Here also is one erected by a Christian congregation in memory of him who broke unto them the bread of life, and their feelings have found expression in the language of the prophet. '^ How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings ; that publisheth peace ; that bringeth good tidings of good ; that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!"

And not far distant do we find the epitaph of a weary pilgrim, who hoped and longed for heaven. '' Think of me as a w-anderer who hath found his home ! "

And what breathings of tenderness and words of hope do w^e find on the marble of those many little graves, which w^e meet in every enclosure consecrated to the dead. In one of these there are two reposing, whose spirits, only a few hours apart, took wing for the bosom of God ; and it is written of them —

'' Lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death /ihey w^ere not divided."

** Side by side they're sweetly sleeping — Little loved ones early blest ;

Free from care and pain and sorrow, Oh ! rejoice they are at rest."

And there is yet another, who sleeps lonely and far removed from those in whose family crown he shines as the first immortal gem with which God adorned it, whose grave is guarded by kind friends, and whose history is written on his tomb-stone in the sublime words of the great Redeemer ! " Of such is the kingdom of Heaven.^

Perhaps there are individuals whose sympathies are not in unison with sentiments like these, and who may be disposed to smile at those expressions of tenderness, which fond hearts have caused to be engraved upon the slab which designates the spot where their beloved repose; but such are either void of sensibility, or they have never tasted the cup of bereavement, and are therefore not competent judges of what is, or is not, a fitting epitaph. Even if those little records are sometimes crude in sentiment, or not remarkable for the taste which has decided upon their appropriateness, they yet possess an air of sacredness which forbids criticism, even on the part of those whose culture and refinement qualify them to discriminate between what is, and what is not, offensive to good taste. It is not often the language of adulation, but that of the heart, which is found upon the tomb ; and therefore it is not the intellect, but the heart, which should sit in judgment upon it. But those who know from personal experience, what it is to pass through the deep waters of afHiction, and who have felt the pain which accompanies the severance of a shoot of life from the heart, will behold beauty, propriety, and meaning in those little records, which the inexperienced in such trials may not be able to discover. Nature seldom if ever acts wrongly, when its operations are in conformity with those laws which the Creator has ordained for its government. And where reason discharges its appropriate functions, and religion controls these human tendencies, those expressions of grief and of hope on the part of the bereaved are perfectly consistent, because consonant with the laws of our being. And instead of censuring the practice of writing in modest language on the tomb of a friend, the virtues with which his character was jeweled, and thus spreading out to the public eye the history of one whose calling and condition in life precluded the probability of his being extensively and intimately known, we would rather encourage it, for the reason that it cannot injure any one, while it may benefit some. For the tomb-stone has sometimes been a successful preacher ; — one whose discourses have produced effects upon the careless, which other instructions could not accomplish. In some instances it has been instrumental in begetting immortal hope in souls which, until brought within its influence, were never animated with gratitude and love to God.

Leigh Richmond, a man of blessed memory, who was honored with many seals to his ministry, gives an interesting account, in the '^ Young Cottager," of the impressions which the reading of those records on the tomb-stones around the church, where he was accustomed to meet the children of his parish, to instruct them in the principles of the gospel, made upon that child's mind. '^ Sometimes," he says, " I sent the children to the various stones which stood at the head of the graves, and bade them learn the epitaphs inscribed upon them." On one occasion he sent the little cottage girl to commit the following epitaph, which he greatly admired.

** Forgive, blest sliade, tlie tributary tear,

That mourns thy exit from a world like this ;

Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here,

And stay'd thy progress to the seats of bliss.

** No more confin'd to grov'ling scenes of night, No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight And trace thy journey to the realms of day.''

Having finished her task, she returned and informed her instructor that she had also learned the following, which he subsequently discovered had deeply impressed her mind :

" It must be so — our father Adam's fall And disobedience, brought this lot on all. All die in him — but hopeless should we be. Blest Revelation, were it not for thee. Hail, glorious gospel ! heavenly light, whereby We live with comfort, and with comfort die, And view beyond this gloomy scene, the tomb, A life of endless happiness to come."

According to her dying testimony, the influence of those epitaphs, in connection with the instructions of her pastor, which w^ere frequently enforced by illustrations drawn from the grave-yard, was instrumental in her salvation.

And there are, no doubt, many of that multitude who now stand radiant with glory in the presence of God, who will forever, and with gratitude, remember lessons which they 3^ learned in the places of sepulture on earth. And while the Holy Spirit has thus made sentiments, chronicled upon the marble, vehicles through which He has entered and renovated hearts, we find in such results, as well as in that communion of souls which they promote, a sufficient warrant for the erection of appropriate memorials to departed friends, and an ample vindication of the practice of inscribing thereon such epitaphs as nature and religion may suggest.