header image
Home arrow Griffin's History arrow A Letter Of Consolation
A Letter Of Consolation PDF Print E-mail
Written by S.B. Luckett   


Crawfordsville, Ind., April 1914 

Samuel B. Luckett writing to Elder T.J. Bazemore, on the death of Elder Bazemore's young daughter.

Your brief message of 19th is just to hand and I write you at once. How small was the card and few your words, but O! How great the sorrow it contained. What can I say that will bring relief to the stricken household? Nothing, except to assure you that once more we weep with those who weep, and for you we turn our poor petitions to Him whose custom it is to come down to this earthly garden to gather lilies to be transplanted to a fairer clime. "My father is the husbandman" says our incarnate Lord, and while every plant not planted by Him shall be rooted up, the planting of His own right hand shall be given immortal bloom in paradise where Jesus is. And yet how crushed we are to see them go! Dear bereaved ones, how true it is that no chastening for the present seemeth joyous, but grievous; nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby. O, that blessed "nevertheless" ! The chastening was a battle – a conflict of bitterness and pain, but the "fruit" will be peaceable and satisfying at the last.

But I am not writing to the young seeing the first dark shadow of life's checkered path. This is not your first sorrow, nor the hundredth! Long since, you learned that we live in a land of mourning. Storm and tempest and rolling wave sweep the sea while desolate paths intermix o'er the icy earth and burning sand, while blighted hopes and ruined plans remind us not to set our affections on the earth where moths corrupt and thieves break through and steal. We must cross the dark faced river to escape the wilderness where drought and scorpion and fiery serpent contend with us for possession.

Your dear Mamie has crossed that river, and while those of you remaining have other sorrows yet to drink, no tremor of pain will evermore be hers. This removal of one so dear to you will unloose one more earthly tie and be to you anchor of the soul both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil. Trials like this make earth's beauty fade and increase the attractions of the everlasting kingdom. I pray it will be so with you and your sorrowing dismembered family; and that waiting faith and abounding hope find a resting place in your hearts. There should be sweetness mingled in your bitter cup, my brother, as you call to mind that sweet event seven years ago, when perhaps with beating heart and trembling hand for love's sake you laid your own dear child in the mystic grave that Jesus filled. Like Him, she became the inmate of a second grave, and "today" is with Him in paradise!

We grieve for you dear friends, and tender our loving sympathy. We mourn with you from an experimental knowledge of your present trial. On one of those rounding hills on the outskirts of the city of St. Joseph, overlooking the "mad Missouri" that goes sweeping by, out first born child and her baby brother repose in dreamless sleep; while in another quiet spot, where many kindred rest, close to the beautiful Ohio, lie another brother and sister where nothing can break the slumber that hath bound them. And here at this place, still another brother and sister will no doubt moulder into dust, and there await the cry of our descending Lord, the voice of the archangel, and the trumpet of God. One of them, our dear Jessie, already lies "under the stone" – a dear girl, like your own, kind, gentle, and meek, and whose twenty-four years had made her a sweet, intelligent, companion for us. We trust she too, was a Christian. Many and many are the dates and pencil marks on the margin of our Bible made by her when reading its pages. On our return from the beautiful cemetery, and while sitting in the room that seemed so dark and desolate, move by some impulse, I know what from whence, I opened a large volume, that I had not looked into for a year and saw for the first time on the fly-leaf the following lines of her own penmanship:

"Beyond the smiling and the weeping
  I shall be soon;
  Beyond the waking and the sleeping
  Beyond the sowing and the reaping
  I shall be soon!
  Love, rest, and home! Sweet home,
  Lord, tarry not, but come!"

Yes, beloved friends, our dear, dead children are beyond these earthly changes. They are free from any of the vicissitudes that may come to us.

Forgive me to alluding to these fadeless memories of bygone years. Every heart has put them there as "pictures of silver" by life's mysterious wand. I meant to have comforted you and have only succeeded in making myself sad. I pray that the Good Samaritan will pass your way and diffuse His oil and wine upon your bruised hearts. To Him your tears are richer than earth's poor rubies, for with such as these the unknown woman washed our Savior's feet. The Lord is even now making up His jewels, and, like Mordecai, we should rejoice that the King has chosen our children.

< Previous   Next >


The Primitive or Old School Baptists cling to the doctrines and practices held by Baptist Churches throughout America at the close of the Revolutionary War. This site is dedicated to providing access to our rich heritage, with both historic and contemporary writings.