lt。 Here are the words： I cannot better them after all these years； and they are as true to me now as they were then。
Ah！ we think much of the sorrows of our youth； and should a sweetheart give us the go…by； we fill the world with moans and swear that it holds no fort for us。 But when we bend our heads before the shrouded shape of some lost child； then it is that for the first time we learn how terrible grief can be。 Time； they tell us； will bring consolation； but it is false； for such sorrow time has no salves。 I say it who am old — as they are so shall they be。 There is no hope but faith； there is no fort save in the truth that love which might have withered on the earth grows fastest in the tomb； to flower gloriously in heaven； that no love indeed can be perfect till God sanctifies and pletes it with His seal of death。
I wrote just now that； for reasons I hope to set out later in this book； I believed my faith； which amongst other things promises reunion of the death…divided； to be a true faith。 Indeed； if it be otherwise； what a hell is this in which we live。 Thrusting from the memory all other trials and sorrows； not for any finite earthly life that could be promised me would I endure again from year to year the agony I have suffered on the one count of this bereavement； which is after all； so mon and everyday a thing。 If ever； in some dread hour； faith in all its forms should be proved a dream and mockery； surely in the same hour will sound the death…knell of all that is best in the educated world。 Brutes which guess of nothing better can live happy till the butcher finds them： men who believe can endure till God consoles or calls them。 But will the much…developed man whose heart…strings； like those of the Aeolian harp； must thrill and sob in every w