The Annals of the Parish

--we have seen the beauty of youth pass away--we have felt our backs become unable for the burthen, and our right hand forget its cunning.--Our eyes have become dim, and our heads grey--we are now tottering with short and feckless steps towards the grave; and some, that should have been here this day, are bed-rid, lying, as it were, at the gates of death, like Lazarus at the threshold of the rich man's door, full of ails and sores, and having no enjoyment but in the hope that is in hereafter. What can I say to you but farewell! Our work is done--we are weary and worn out, and in need of rest-- may the rest of the blessed be our portion!--and in the sleep that all must sleep, beneath the cold blanket of the kirkyard grass, and on that clay pillow where we must shortly lay our heads, may we have pleasant dreams, till we are awakened to partake of the everlasting banquet of the saints in glory!"

When I had finished, there was for some time a great solemnity throughout the kirk; and, before giving the bles