Friday, February 28, 2014
THE CHRISTIAN INLTELLIGENCER, Gardiner, Maine, Friday October 10, 1828
In Leeds, Androscoggin County, on the 27th ult., Miss Diana Sampson, aged
The death of this young lady is deeply lamented by all of her friends and
"But why should we repine, and sorrow rise,
That Christ has call'd her spirit to the skies,-
That the afflictive race of life is run-
And a unfading crown of glory won?
Truly we mourn not as those who mourn without a hope; but as mortals, we feel
to mourn for those who are torn from our bosoms in youthful bloom. We weep at
the rending of those ties of nature which had bound them so dearly to our hearts. Yet
while we mourn the loss of one who was lovely even in her shroud, we feel calmly
resigned, believing that He, "whose tender mercies are over all the works of his hands,"
has taken her to a sacred nearness of himself. O, how smoothing the hope which
furnishes a balm to heal the wounded heart! We do feel to bless the Father of our
spirits, that by his holy word he has given us "hopes of bliss beyond the grave." It
is that which enable us to look forward with joy to that glorious period when we shall
re-unite with our departed sister, and in the realms of unbounded felicity, join her in
hymns of praise to him who "died that we might live."
"The rose has bow'd beneath the storm,
The grave conceals the graceful form;
While tears of woe fall on the tomb
Of her, who died in beauty's bloom."
Mr. Drew,-Never did I fully realize the force of the above beautiful lines, till last
Thursday morning, when summoned to pay the last tribute's of respect to the remains
of MISS COURTNEY.
It was a dark morning,-the almost forsaken fields-and the silent air, uncheered by
the voice of nature's songsters , or the buzz of insects, all seemed silently to speak of
a natural glory that was departing from the earth; and led me involuntarily to reflect
upon the short lived nature of all earthly enjoyments, and to compare them with those of
more celestial origin.
Thus did I proceed on my short journey in company with a few youthful associates
from a neighboring village, pensively musing on the loss our little society has sustained
in the death of Courtney, till we arrived at the abode of the deceased. We entered-a
multitude of youths thronged the room, mingling their lamentations, and silently bidding
their last farewell; as I gazed around I though I could distinctly read on every
countenance the same chain of reflections, that labored in my own bosom. It was a
morning of sorrow-for Courtney was beloved and her death deeply lamented. I have
seen her in the morning of her day-in playful moments. She appeared like the wild rose,
scattering fragrance and beauty on every surrounding object. Or like the opening buds of
the lily upon the surface of the lake in a calm morning, when tinged by the first sparkling
beams of aurora-lovely and fascinating. I have seen her in mature age-she was virtuous,
amiable and happy. Peace and tranquility and innocence she their mingled delights
But now the scene is changed-as I cast a last lingering look upon her clay, cold
countenance, thought I, those eyes in which the big fear has so often gathered at the
tale of sorrow, are now closed forever! Those cheeks that so lately bloomed and
blushed with beauty and modestly, are now cold and lifeless! O, how soon are the
fairest earthly prospects blasted. Only three months ago she was in the bloom of
health, and bid fair as any one now does, to be long a blessing to her friends. But,
alas! in an unexpected moment a quick consumption seized upon her frame and laid
the fond hopes of her parents in the dust. Such, said I, is the fate of the wisest and best
Myself and five other youths had been selected to walk by the side of the hearse, as
pall-bearers. We had scarcely taken our places when our ears were saluted by the
shrieks of a female-It was the mother of the deceased. I despair of giving you a
description of the sensation produced in my breast at that moment. I could no longer
command my sympathy-I wept. Reader; picture to yourself a mother; one who (if
eminent piety and genuine goodness are worthy the appellation) may be called the best
mothers, following to the grave a beloved and amiable daughter, cut down in the bloom
of life, before the sun of her bright morning had reached its meridian, and if you could
refrain from weeping, I envy not your feelings. I had rather go and weep with a friend
upon such a afflictive occasion than to mingle in the gayest circle. There is a certain
charm in being able to mitigate the sorrows of a friend, that if far beyond the reach of
speculation, and a satisfaction that out weights the Monarch's crown or the wreaths of
But, although Courtney is dead, she still lives, and will long continue to live in the
remembrance of the virtuous; and I trust the tear of friendship will oft bedew her
grave, while rich bouquets of roses shall be strewed thereon by the hand of youthful
C old hand of Death; why thus destroy?
O h! why arrest sweet youthful bloom?
U nmingled sweetness, why decoy,
R eluctant to the silent tomb?
T ake not from earth such new born bliss;
N or tear from weeping friends, such treasure.
E 'en when thous must the wound inflict-
Y et spare, O spare such buds of pleasure.