West Monkton, Ont.
September 26, 1918.
My dear Margaret –
Words fail to convey my feeling of sorrow, on receipt of the intelligence that your dear friend has died the death of a soldier. I know how futile it is to address words, idle insipid words, to you, in this moment of supreme anguish with which it has pleased God to visit you. If God has plucked a bright blossom from your heart, it is for a purpose none of us can divine. He alone can pour balm upon your crushed heart.
One consolation is to know that he died, doing his duty. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for a friend.”
The holy joy is yours of knowing, eternal, where “life’s dark day is done” you will meet your dear friend in the realms, where there are no wars, nor sorrow. There to enjoy the communion of saints, there, as a part of God’s great family, to hold intercourse with the loved one, gone before.
“Death is the crown of life,
Were death denied, poor man would live in vain!
Were death denied, to live would not be life!
Were death denied, even fools would wish to die,
Death wounds to cure –
We fall, we rise, we reign
The King of terrors is the Prince of Peace.”
May God sustain you in this dark hour of your tribulation.
If the tenderest of much loving sympathy could soothe you, dear Margaret – know that you have it from
Your Sincere friend,
Zella E. Thorne.