The Passing of an
Infant
It is certain that some have worked their day's
work for the Master in their mother's arms; they have spoken of
the Savior in tones which have melted a mother's heart and gone
to a father's conscience, and then they have been taken home.
"Whom the gods love die young," said the heathen, and doubtless
it is no small privilege to be so soon admitted into glory. Only
shown on earth, and then snatched away to Heaven, too precious
to be left below. Precious child, how dear were you to the good
God who sent you here, and then took you home! Fair rosebud! Yet
in the perfection of your young beauty taken to be worn by the
Savior on His bosom, how can we mourn your translation to the
skies?
No bitter tears for thee be shed,
Blossom of being seen and gone!
With flowers alone we strew thy bed,
O blest departed one!
Whose all of life, a rosy ray,
Blush'd into dawn and pass'd away.
- C. H. Spurgeon, Early and Late, or
Horae Gratiae, No. 664
