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Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion), 1854-1909

"Mr. Isaacs"

Yours is the
faith and the truth that abide always, yours henceforward shall be the
perfect union of souls, yours the ethereal range of the outer firmament.
Take my hand, brother, in yours, and seek with me the path to those
heights--to that pinnacle of paradise where you shall meet once more the
spirit elected to yours."
Ram Lal stood beside Isaacs, whose face was still hidden, and laid his
hand with tender gentleness on the weary head. The old man looked kindly
down as he touched the thick black hair, and then raised his eyes and
looked out through the door at the brightening landscape over which the
morning sun was shedding warmth and beauty once more.
"Brother," he continued, "come forth with me. You have suffered too much
to mix again with the world, even if you wished it. Come forth, and your
soul shall live for ever. Your grief shall be turned to joy, and the
sinking heart shall be lifted to heights untried. As now the sun
steadily rises in his unerring course, following the pale footsteps of
the fleet dawning, and fulfilling her half spoken promises a
million-fold in his goodness; as now the all-muffling heaviness of the
sad dark night is forgotten in the gladness of day--so shall your brief
time of darkness and dull distress perish and vanish swiftly at the
first glimpses of the heavenly day on which follows no creeping night
nor shadow of earthly care.


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