The very memory of the sorrow is a gentle benediction that broods ever over the household, like the afterglow of sunset, like the silence that comes after prayer.
In every burden of sorrow there is a blessing sent from God, which we ought not to thrust away.

In one of the battles of the Crimea, a cannon-ball struck inside a fort, gashing the earth and sadly marring the garden beauty of the place.

But from the ugly chasm there burst forth a spring of water, which flowed on thereafter, a living fountain.
So the strokes of sorrow gash our hearts, leaving ofttimes wounds and scars, but they open for us fountains of rich blessing and of new life.
"Then Sorrow whispered gently: 'Take This burden up.

Be not afraid.
An hour is short.

Thou scarce wilt wake To consciousness that I have laid My hand upon thee, when the hour Shall all have passed; and gladder then For the brief pain's uplifting power, Thou shall but pity griefless men.'" These are hints of the blessings of burdens.