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portals. Still it is a terrible thing. Even Jesus Wept at the grave of his friend. We may be calm & hopeful as we follow with the Eye of faith the freed spirit in its upward course, but when we turn & look upon the lifeless body once so full of life & beauty & grace & joy, now inanimate & cold, when we think of the thousand acts & looks of love & affection it has showered upon us, when we think how day by day we have watched its gradual development with parental joy & then realize that death hath set his seal upon it & frozen every spring of life therein & that it can be with us no more, as its Mother Earth claims it for her own, & all its beauty & loveliness must turn to dust, then Oh then we must weep or the heart would break & it is right than we should weep. Those tears are sacred to the memory of the loved