The Home Mission | Page 3

sweetly, and spoke with an exquisite,
penetrating tenderness,)--
"Your heart is full of love for your babe?"
"He is dearer to me than life--dearer than a thousand lives," replied the
mother quickly, drawing the babe closer to her bosom.
"Love seeks to bless the object of its regard."

There was a meaning in the words and tone of the maiden, as she said
this, that caused the mother to look into her face earnestly.
"This is not the land of sickness, of sorrow, of death," resumed the
maiden, "but the land of eternal life and blessedness. Into this land your
babe has been born. You are here only as a visitant, and must soon
return to bear a few more trials and pains, a few more conflicts with
evil; but the end is your preparation for these heavenly regions."
A shadow fell instantly upon the mother's heart. Tears rushed to her
eyes, and she drew her arms more tightly about her babe.
"Shall we keep this babe in our heavenly home, or will you bear it with
you back to the dark, cold, sad regions of mortality?"
"Do not take from me my more than life!" sobbed the mother wildly.
"Oh! I cannot give you my child;" and more eagerly she hugged it to
her breast.
For a time there was silence. Then one of the maidens laid gently her
hand upon the mother, and she lifted her bowed head.
"Come," said the maiden.
The mother arose, and the two walked into the open air, and passing
through the group of children sporting on the lawn and in the gardens,
went for what seemed the space of a mile, until they came to a forest,
into the depths of which they penetrated; and, for a time, the farther
they went the darker and more gloomy it became, until scarcely a ray of
light from the arching sky came down through the dense and tangled
foliage. At last they were beyond the forest.
"Look," said the companion.
The mother lifted her eyes--the babe had strangely passed from her
arms. A dwelling, familiar in aspect, stood near, and through an open
window she saw a sick child lying upon a bed, and knew it as her own.
Its little face was distorted by pain and flushed with fever; and as it

tossed restlessly to and fro, its moans filled her ears. She stretched forth
her hands, yearning to give some relief; even as she did so, the scene
faded from her view, and next she saw an older child, bearing still the
linaments of her own. There was the same broad, white forehead and
clustering curls; the same large, bright eyes and full, ruddy lips; but,
alas! not the soft vail of innocence which had given the features of the
babe such a heavenly charm. The fine brow was contracted with
passion; the eyes flashed with an evil light; and the lips were tightly
drawn, and with something of defiance, against the teeth. The boy was
resisting, with a stern determination, the will of the parents--was setting
at naught those early salutary restraints which are the safeguard of
youth.
"Oh! my unhappy boy!" cried the mother.
The scene changed as she spoke. The boy, now grown up to manhood,
once more stood before her. Alas! how had the light of innocence faded
from his countenance, giving place to a shadow of evil, the very
darkness of which caused a cold shudder to pass through the mother's
frame.
"Look again," said the maiden, as this scene was fading.
But the mother hid her face in her hands, and turned weeping away.
"Look again." And this time there was something so heart-cheering in
the maiden's voice, that the mother lifted her tearful eyes. She was back
again in the beautiful place from which she had gone forth a little while
before, and her babe, beautiful as innocence itself, lay sweetly sleeping
in the arms of the lovely maiden who had received it on its first
entrance into heaven. With a heart full of joy, the mother now bent over
the slumbering babe, kissing it again and again.
"Grieving mother," said the angel-maiden, in tones of flute-like
softness, "God saw that it would not be good for your child to remain
on earth, and he therefore removed it to this celestial region, where no
evil can ever penetrate. To me, as an angel-mother, it has been given;
and I will love it and care for it with a love as pure and tender as the

love that yearns in your bosom. As its infantile mind opens, I will pour
in heavenly instruction, that it may grow in wisdom and become an
angel. Will you not let me have it freely?"
"But why may I not remain here and