Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 December 1890 — Our Lost. [ARTICLE]

Our Lost.

There’s a tender spot in the heart of almost every living person sacred to the memory of some loved one who has gone on before. It may have been father or mother, sister or brother, husband, wife or child, but tbe spot is there, and in the first bitter hours of our bereavement how very, very tender and sore it is. The slightest touch upon that spot, by word or thought, will' cause inexpressible pain, and we think, as we feel the gnawing anguish at our hearts, the bitter burning pain will never cease, and perhaps long and pray for death ourselves to end our sorrow and misery and reunite us with the loved one. But time passes on. The necessities of living occupy > our thoughts, and gradually, at each recurring time the thought of our loss strikes us, the blow is less severe, the pain less sharp. We never cease to mourn, we never forget our dead, but we can think of them in a tender, loving, even hopeful light. We remember every good and lovable quality, and if they possessed others, we never think of them, and gradually we bring ourselves to think and believe they were perfect, and we cease mourning so bitterly, and only a sad, loving, tender recollection remains.— Farm and Fireside.