"I can see two pilgrims treading this highway of life together, hand in hand—heart linked to heart."

"Sometimes, my thoughts would recall those glorious drives up the mountains, which we had so lately enjoyed together; when every turn in the road revealed some new beauty of prospect, and a perfect climax of delight was reached when, after long, steady climbing, the horses drew the carriage triumphantly into the "place" of the quaint mountain village or town where we were bound.

Here, some eight or nine hundred feet above the level of the sea, the houses were crowded together among the rocks like swallows' nests, and the view before us was enchanting beyond description; and my beloved would, with childlike eagerness, turn to me, and say, "There, wifey, isn't that worth coming all the way to see?"

Yes, truly; and if there had been nothing else to see than his exultant happiness at my long-desired presence with him, this would have well repaid any effort of love on my part.

But, good and precious as all that was—and, oh! how sweet is the memory now!—my heart understands that it was only a poor earthly joy—fading and shadowy; and again I have to say, "He is with Christ, which is far better!"

"...when with one hand the Lord had smitten me well-near to death, while with the other hand He had poured into my wounded heart the oil and wine of His choicest consolation. It was a wonderful time to my soul, and He helped me to sing aloud of His faithfulness, and to bless His Name—though He had taken from me my husband—the joy and crown of my earthly life.

Because of this, because He had glorified Himself in my sorrow, and out of the inmost recesses of my heart had drawn forth this canticle of grief, the words went straight to other lonely hearts, and rested there like "the dew of Hermon." For a long time, I received constant testimony to the fact that, in a very remarkable way, God was using the experience He had given me, as a balm and cordial to heal and soothe others of His bereaved children; and none but myself can tell how precious was this knowledge to my aching heart.

It seemed indeed worthwhile suffering and sorrowing, if God's love and pity turned it all into a sweet symphony of praise to Him, and enabled stricken ones to honor Him by a response of sweet submission and perfect truth.

So, to the glory of my dear Lord, whose grace was sufficient for me in my darkest and most distressful days, I have had my "Song of Sighs" reproduced; and my one earnest desire is that, as the Lord then gave it the approval of His blessing, so now he will not withhold the grace which alone can make it His voice of comfort to those who mourn."

Excerpts from Susannah Spurgeon's (how she dealt with the death of her beloved husband, C. H. Spurgeon.)

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