"Mamma, Elsie do love Jesus!" were the earnest words that followed the
close of the narrative. "Say prayer now, and go bed. Elsie feel sick.
Mamma, stay wis Elsie?"
"Yes, my precious one, mamma will stay close beside her darling as long as
she wants her. You may say your little prayer kneeling in mamma's lap; and
then she will sing you to sleep."
"Jesus like Elsie do dat way?"
"Yes, darling, when she's sick."
Mamma's arms encircled and upheld the little form, the chubby hands were
meekly folded, and the soft cheek rested against hers, while the few words
of prayer faltered on the baby tongue.
Then, the posture changed to a more restful one, the sweet voice still
full of tears, and often trembling with emotion, sang the little one to
sleep.
Laying her gently in her crib, Elsie knelt beside it, sending up a
petition with strong crying and tears; not that the young life might be
spared, unless the will of God were so, but that she might be enabled to
say, with all her heart, "Thy will be done."
Ere she had finished, her husband knelt beside her asking the same for her
and himself.
They rose up together, and folded to his heart, she wept out her sorrow
upon his breast.
"You are very weary, little wife," he said tenderly, passing his hand
caressingly over her hair and pressing his lips again and again to the
heated brow.
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