Beloved, you used to write me that I
must take good care of my dear and tender babe, Aweshalom. Perhaps I
did not fully do as you told me. But one thing I know: the Lord, who
loves little children, was not willing that I should keep him. And I
believe that he will take better care of my dear child than I could.
You must know that I am deeply wounded and crushed by the death of
Aweshalom. My tears cease not. His first birth was October 14, 1858;
his second and spiritual one, April 23, 1860. His life with us was a
pleasant one, and he made our lives very sweet and delightful; but
now he has gone to heaven, while we remain on the earth. He lives
the new life, while we die daily. He is strong, while I am weak. He
has grown beautiful, in the light and image of the Saviour, while I
am pining away. If you have heard what a child he was, you will not
wonder at my sickness since his death. My husband is greatly
afflicted in the death of this, our first, our only child. We find
no comfort except in casting our wounded souls at the feet of the
Saviour, who was tempted that he might heal our wounds. It seems,
sometimes, as if our comforters were far from us; but our Saviour is
very near to help and comfort.
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