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LETTERS. 151
‘eternal and unchanging beauty of things on high were in
disharmony with her inner being—her soul. Longing,
she cast her eyes downwards, and saw in foreboding
dreams a lower world, not far separated from her mother’s
home, where dusky clouds often darkened the sun; where
vapors curled over rose-gardens, and where heaven itself
shed tears over a green-clad world. And her heart beat,
and she sighed, “ Thither, oh, thither!”
The genius of heavenly love, marked with loving looks
his daughter’s silent sadness. And when the time had
arrived, the hour which Jehovah had appointed, he took
her hand, and soared with her through cieation’s endless
space. They approached a star, called Earth, where the
seraph’s eye with melancholy joy found again images con-
genial to her heart and soul. Bright tears glittered in the
bells of flowers. The sun burst through heavy clouds.
Summer days and winter nights rested alternately on the
shadowy vales, and gloomy fogs rolled over its loveliest
landscapes.
“ Here let us linger, — here let us rest!” whispered she,
beseechingly. They lowered their flight and alighted
upon a hill, from which wide-spreading cedars threw their
lengthening evening shadows. Sweetly smiling, the seraph
looked round, looked towards heaven, over whose face
bright clouds were wafted by gentle winds, and then at her
heavenly guide, saying: “ Here it is good to remain; here
is my home; here let me stay!”
“ Daughter of my love,” replied her father, “ yes, here
thou shalt stay, — here is thy home; Jehovah wills it so;
here is the cradle of immortal beings — man’s native land.
Here, under suffering, are born eternal joys. But, in or-
der that man shall not miss his goal, thou shalt be near
him, a link between me and my eternal home, which shall
be his also one day. Thou shalt teach him to pray — that
is, to trust and hope. Thou shalt watch at his cradle and
at his grave. Thou shalt teach him, in all changes, to look
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