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ed； which was elaborated from the living alembic of the soul； through painful days and weary nights；the sentiment which could not find expression to contemporaries；the gift； the greatness； the lyric power； which was disguised and unknown so long。 Who； that has communed with the work of such a spirit； has not felt in every line that thrilled his soul； in every wondrous lineament that stamped itself upon his memory forever； that the dead can speak； yes； that they have voices which speak most truly； most emphatically when they are dead？ So does Industry speak； in its noble monuments； its precious fruits！ So does Maternal Affection speak； in a chord that vibrates in the hardest heart； in the pure and better sentiment of after…years。 So does Patriotism speak； in the soil liberated and enriched by its sufferings。 So does the martyr speak； in the truth which triumphs by his sacrifice。 So does the great man speak； in his life and deeds； glowing on the storied page。 so does the good man speak； in the character and influence which he leaves behind him。 The voices of the dead come to us from their works； from their results and these are all around us。
But I remark； in the second place； that the dead speak to us in memory and association。 If their voices may be constantly heard in their works； we do not always heed them； neither have we that care and attachment for the great congregation of the departed which will at any time call them up vividly before us。 But in that congregation there are those whom we have known intimately and fondly； whom we cherished with our best love； who lay close to our bosoms。 And these speak to us in a more private and peculiar manner；in mementos that flash upon us the whole person of the departed； every physical and spiritual lineamentin consecrated hours of recollection that upon up all the train of the past； and re…twine its broken ties around our hearts； and make its endearments present still。 Then； then； though dead； they speak to us。 It needs not the vocal utterance； nor the living presence； but the mood that transforms the scene and the hour supplies these。 That face that has slept so long in the grave； now bending upon us； pale and silent； but affectionate still；that more vivid recollection of every feature； tone； and movement； that brings before us the departed just as we knew them in the full flush of life and health；that soft and consecrating spell which falls upon us； drawing in all our thoughts from the present； arresting； as it were； the current of our being； and turning it back and holding it still as the flood of actual life rushes by us；while in that trance of soul the beings of the past are shadowedold friends； old days； old scenes recur； familiar looks beam close upon us； familiar words reecho in our ears； and we are closed up and absorbed with the by…gone； until tears dissolve the film from our eyes； and some shock of the actual wakes us from our reverie；all these； I say make the dead to commune with us as really as though in bodily form they should come out from the chambers of their mysterious silence； and speak to us。 And if life consists in experiences； and not mere physical relations；and if love and communion belong to that experience； though they take place in meditation； or in dreams； or by actual contact；then； in that hour of remembrance； have we really lived with the departed； and the departed have come back and lived with us。 Though dead； they have spoken to us。 And though memory sometimes induces the spirit of heaviness；though it is often the agent of conscience； and wakens u to chastise；yet； it is wonderful how； from events that were deeply mingled with pain； it will extract an element of sweetness。 a writer； in relating one of the experiences of her sick…room； has illustrated this。 In an hour of suffering； when no one was near here； she went out from her bed and her room to another apartment； and looked out upon a glorious landscape of sunrise and spring…time。 〃I was suffering too much to enjoy this picture at the moment；〃 she says； 〃but how was it at the end of the year？ The pains of all those hours were annihilated；as completely vanished as if they had never been； while the momentary peep behind the window…curtain made me possessor of this radiant picture for evermore。〃 〃Whence came this wide difference；〃 she asks； 〃between the good and the evil？ Because good is indissolubly connected with ideas；with the unseen realities which are indestructible。〃 And though the illustration which she thus gives may bear the impression of an individual personality； instead of a universal truth； still； in the instance to which I apply it； I believe it will very generally hold true； that memory leaves a pleasant rather than a painful impression。 At least； there is so much that is pleasant mingled with it that we would not willingly lose the faculty of memory；the consciousness that we can thus call back the dead； and hear their voices；that we have the power of softening the rugged realities which only suggest our loss and disappointment； by transferring the scene and the hour to the past and the departed。 And； as our conceptions become more and more spiritual； we shall find the real to be less dependent upon the outward and the visible；we shall learn how much life there is in a thought；how veritable are the communions of spirit； and the hour in which memory gives us the vision of the dead will be prized by us as an hour of actual experience and such opportunities will grow more precious to us。 No； we would not willingly lose this power of memory。 One would not say； 〃Let the dead never come back to me in a thought； or a dream； let them never glide before me in the still watch of meditation； let me see； let me hear them no more； even in fancy；〃not one of us would say this； and； therefore； it is evident； that whatever painful circumstance memory or association may recall；even though it cause us to go out and weep bitterly；there is a sacred pleasure； a tender melancholy； that speaks to us in these voices of the dead； which we are willing to cherish and repeat。 It makes our tears soft and sanctifying as they fall； it makes our hearts purer and better；makes them stronger for the conflict of life。
I remark； finally； that the dead speak to us in those religious suggestionsthose consolations； invitations； and hopeswhich the bereaved spirit indulges。 Our meditations； concerning them naturally draw us more closely to these spiritual realities which lie beyond the grave； and beget in us those holier sentiments which we need。 That such is the tendency of these recollections experience assures us。 They open for us a new order of thought； they bring us in contact with the loftiest but most neglected truths。 Even the hardest heart feels this influence。 It is softened by the stroke of bereavement and； for the time being； a chastening influence falls upon it； and it always thinks of the dead with tenderness and awe。 They speak to our affections with an irresistible influence； they soothe our turbulent passions with their mild and holy calmness； they rebuke us in their spiritual majesty for our sensuality and our sin。 They have departed； but they are not silent。 Though dead； they speak to us。 Sweet and sanctifying is their communion with us。 They utter words of warning； too； and speak to us by the silent eloquence of example。 By this they bid us imitate all that was good in their lives； all that is dear to remember。 By this； too； they tell us that we are passing swiftly from the earth； and hastening to join their number。 A little while ago； and they were as we are；a little while hence； and we shall be as they。 Our work； like theirs； will be left behind to speak for us。 How important； then； that we consider what work we do！ They assure us that nothing is perpetual here。 They bid us not fasten our affections upon earth。 In long procession they pass us by； with solemn voices telling of their love and hatred； their interests and cares； their work and device；all abandoned now and passed away； as little worth as the dust that blows across their graves。 Upon all that was theirs； upon every memorial of them； broods a melancholy dimness and silence。 They recede more and more from the associations of the living。 New tides of life roll through the cities of their habitation； and upon the foot…worn pavements of their traffic other feet are busy。 Their lovely labor； or their stately pomp； is forgotten。 No one weeps or cares for them。 Their solicitous monuments are unheeded。 The companions of their youth have rejoined them。 The young； who scarcely remembered them； are giving way to another generation。 The places that knew them know them no longer。 〃This； this；〃 their solemn voices preach to us； 〃is the changeableness of earth； and the emptiness of its pursuits！〃 They urge us to seek the noblest end； the unfailing treasure。 They bid us to find our hope and our rest； our only constant joy in Him； who alone； amid this mutability and decay； is permanent；in God！
Well； then； is it for us to listen to the voices of the dead。 By so doing； we are better fitted for life； and for death。 From that audience we go purified and strengthened into the varied discipline of our mortal state。 W