The mother could not weep, but now and then sighed deeply, as she alternately looked at Elizabeth and at me.

The big tear rolled down the brother's cheek, and testified an affectionate regard.

The good old man stood at the foot of the bed, leaning upon the post, and unable to take his eyes off the child from whom he was so soon to part.
Elizabeth's eyes were closed, and as yet she perceived me not.

But over the face, though pale, sunk, and hollow, the peace of God which passeth all understanding, had cast a triumphant calm.
The soldier, after a short pause, silently reached out his Bible towards me, pointing with his finger at 1 Cor.xv.55, 56, 58.

I then broke silence by reading the passage, "O death, where is thy sting?
O grave, where is thy victory?
The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.