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I am disposed to take the pen to send thee at least a message of love. Anna Potts mentioned lately thy eightieth birthday. Years ago it was one of thy heart utterances, -
"Alas! they have left me all alone By the receding tide; But oh! the countless multitudes Upon the other side!"
We think of thee in one sense more alone than often falls to the lot of the Zionward pilgrim. Yet, in
a better sense, we can think of no one less alone. He who was thy morning light is thy evening
song, as He leads thee still through proving and lonely paths to a larger knowledge and deeper
experience of the unsearchable riches of His grace. He is ever with thee, whether with the conscious
shining of His face to comfort and lift thy spirit up, or with a veil to make thee long more and press
closer to His side. And not alone his companionship; the mountain is full about thee. "Ye are come
to Mount Zion, to the general assembly and Church of the first-born, whose names are written in
heaven, and to God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect."