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“Oh! Heaven hath balm for every wound it makes,

Healing the broken heart; it smites, but ne'er forsakos."

“Oh! hear your softest balm to those

Who fondly, vainly mourn the dead;
To them that world of peace disclose,

Where the bright soul is filed :
Where Love, immortal in his native clime,
Shall fear no pang from fate, no blight from time."

Hemans,

BOSTON:

ABEL TOMPKINS, 38 CORNHILL.

BV 4905 B2 1846

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1840,

By ABEL TOMPKINS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

11/ 6

101-2

STEREOTYPED BY
GEO. A. & J. CURTIS,
NEW-ENGLAND FOUNDRY, CONGRESS ST.

PREFACE.

During the brief ministry of the author, he has deeply felt the need of such a volume as he has aimed to make the one here

presented to the reader, that he might leave it with the afflicted heart, to distil in silence its comfort upon the soul. He has chosen rather to dwell upon those truths which are the elements of all true comfort, than to adapt the articles to particular cases of trial and grief. These truths are susceptible of infinitely various combinations, so that they may be adapted to meet the wants of every afflicted heart and raise up every drooping spirit; as we learned from an inspired teacher;—"Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father

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