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Even when there were sounds of sorrow among the rest, they were

not harsh nor cruel. Even when golden hair, like her own, lay in

a halo on a pillow round the worn face of a little boy, and he

said, with a radiant smile, "Dear papa and mamma, I am very sorry

to leave you both, and to leave my pretty sister; but I am

called, and I must go!" those were not tears all of agony that

wetted his young mother's cheek, as the spirit departed from her

embrace that had been entrusted to it. Suffer them and forbid

them not. They see my Father's face. O Father, blessed words!