Remarks at the funeral services of Mrs. Garrison
, 125 Highland Street, Roxbury
, Thursday, January 27, 1876.
How hard it is to let our friends go!
We cling to them as if separation were separation forever; and yet, as life nears its end, and we tread the last years together, have we any right to be surprised that the circle grows narrow; that so many fall, one after another, at our side?
Death seems to strike very frequently; but it is only the natural, inevitable fate, however sad for the moment.
Some of us can recollect, only twenty years ago, the large and loving group that lived and worked together; the joy of companionship, sympathy with each other,--almost our only joy, for the outlook was very dark, and our toil seemed almost vain.
The world's dislike of what we aimed at, the social frown, obliged us to be all the world to each other; and yet it was a full life.
The life was worth living; the labor was its own reward; we lacked nothing.
As I stand by this dust, my thoughts go freshly back to those pleasant years when the warp and woof of her life were woven so close to the rest of us; when the sight of it was such an inspiration.
How cheerfully she took up daily the burden of sacrifice and effort!
With what serene courage she looked into the face of peril to her own life, and to those who were dearer to her than