The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-09-01
THE DEATH OF LITTLE chill
DREN.

There is something peculiarly sad in
the death of little child. One reason
is because every little child is the CEN
tire of whole world of hope. Though
the unborn know nothing of us, we
know something of them and make
ready for their coming, sewing, as Mrs.
Browning says, 1.-THE long clothes and
the neat little coat" and waiting day
by day until they are ready 20 lay them
selves in our arms, and say, "Here 1
am; love me, dote on me-" Then
straightway we begin " to love and to
dote," to Groom our songs, to weave
our plans, to build our hopes. Every
child comes into the world, if it comes
to its true estate of love and welcome,
as the tender object of the most endear-
ing and happy hopes. When the little
one dies all these sweet anticipations
die with it.
Another reason is that the precious lit
tie life thus passed, seems so incomplete.
The baby perhaps had but just begun to
live when it ceased to live. Why was
he born If he were SO soon to diep Why
should all our unfathomable love have
been lighted only to be quenched in the
coming on of this darkness? He had
but just sat down to the feast of life
when he was called away. In this tu
multi of feeling we are likely to rebel in
spirit, and to ask why this sorrow
SHOULD come to us. There are plenty
Of unloved children in the world; plenty
OF little homeless, motherless waits
with no one to Groom songs, to kiss, to
dote on them. The world holds many
and many little one who would surely
be better off with the angels than they
are in this hurrying world. Why should
not God be pleased to take these and
leave us our tender bud, our sweet
treasure? All! these questions are as
wrong as they are vain; they are born
out Of our darkness, not out of our
faith, they are pagan not Christian.
We have plants in all our homes
which are exotic. They cannot live in
the wild winter of our northern cline.
When the rude storms begin, we gather
them into the light and warmth of the
tireside; we give them fresh soil, we
tend and watch them, moving them
away from the window when too cold,
and away from the fire when too warm,
and so winning them into blossom and
fragrance. We have reason to think
that many Of these little ones are too
delicate for our rude handling. You
will often see in children that die young
a peculiar sweetness of disposition,
peculiar lovingness, a fine gentleness of
spirit that does not belong to the more
robust. 1t seems that the world is too
cold for such. One knows almost from
the first, that there is more Of heaven
than of earth in their little hearts. It
ought not to surprise US when they
take fight into the heaven they seem
born for, to the angels who have
seemed to be always with them, WOO
ing them with voices we could not hear,
with white hands we could not see.
1t appears then that though the world
is all dark for time after the dear one
goes, and our spirits are clad in wells of
darkness, yet God has done what is best;
he has only afflicted US in love. Know
ing that the precious one was too frail
for our keeping, that the dreary noises
and tumults through which we must
all pass from the cradle to old age were
too hard and uncongenial, that this win
try world was too wild for the sweet
spirit enshrined in the earth body, he
took it home to himself; he called his
angels Of love and comfort all about it,
laid it as precious burden upon their
bosoms, and bade them keep it in all
peace until those who loved it on earth
shall come to claim it again; and lean
ing upon it be taught the mysteries of
heaven. So tenderly does God love
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