---

The death of young children is among the saddest bereavements of life. The sight of a suffering, dying child is painful. The mystery distresses us. Affection yearns in vain. The death of a young child is a sore disappointment. The fond parents cling round it through life, "like bees about a flower's wine-cup." What dreams of long life, and rich fortune, and untold happiness beguile their days! Their cherished hopes are blighted, and the future is a scene of clouded prospects and changed plans. The death of young children is often one of the hardest things to endure. Like the weeping Rachel, the bereaved parents are inconsolable. What bitter words of rebellion are sometimes spoken, instead of words of sweet resignation! Never is the weakness of all earthly props more manifest than under such circumstances. No considerations save such as the Bible supplies can give to the soul strength and peace. Still you remember your dead. Your experience ripens into that of Vaughan —

"They are all gone into a world of light,

And I alone sit lingering here;

Their very memory is fair and bright,

And my sad thoughts doth clear."Although the death of young children is such a sore loss, there are sources of comfort — considerations which constrain us to say, "Thy will be done."

I. IN THE EARLY REMOVAL OF CHILDREN GOD ACTS AS A FATHER. In one of our English churchyards there is this inscription on a child's tombstone: "'Who plucked that flower?' cried the gardener, as he walked through the garden. His fellow-servant answered, 'The Master,' and the gardener held his peace." There is an Eastern story of a rabbi, who, having been absent all day, returned home in the evening, and was met by his wife at the door. With her first greeting she told him how she had been perplexed during the day, because a friend, who years ago had entrusted some rare jewels to her care, had that day come for them. from her long possession of them they seemed almost her own, and she felt loth to give them back. "They were only lent," replied her husband; "be thankful that you have had the use of them so long." "Your words are good," said she; "may we now and always follow them!" Then, leading him into an inner chamber, she showed him, stretched upon one bed, their two children who had that day died. Forthwith he knew the jewels which God had lent him, and now resumed, and his heart said, "The Lord gave," &c.

II. CHILDREN WHO DIE YOUNG ARE REMOVED FROM ALL POSSIBLE SORROW AND HARM TO LIVE THE PERFECT LIFE ABOVE. Their sufferings, perhaps, were great, and you would fain have suffered in their stead; but their day of suffering was short. There was mercy in their death. Had they lived, some wild and withering anguish might have sered their summer's earliest leaf; the sickness of hope deferred might have given them a disgust of life. They have escaped these and all other woes — escaped them for ever. They are, moreover, taken away from all possible sin. They might have lived to be a curse to their parents and to the world. We know little of their future life; but we know as much as this — that all which can make life worth living is theirs. Your fondest love could not wish more for them than they enjoy. Selfishness might desire their return; love never can. All that was imperfect in them is left behind; and they are as the angels of God for ever.

III. THE DEATH OF YOUNG CHILDREN IS OFTEN A MINISTRY OF BLESSING TO THE BEREAVED PARENTS. Just as we make idols of other objects that we regard with undue affection, so we are in danger of making idols of our children. If we allow them to estrange our affections from God, to interfere with our religious duties — to withdraw our sympathies from the poor and suffering around us, then our love is of the nature of idolatry; and it is a proof of God's love that He removes the idols. In one of his letters, Dr. Judson writes thus: "Our only darling boy was, three days ago, laid in the silent grave. Eight months we enjoyed the precious little gift, in which time he had so completely entwined himself around his parents' hearts, that his existence seemed necessary to their own. But God has taught us by afflictions what we would not learn by mercies, that our hearts are His exclusive property, and whatever rival intrudes He will tear it away." Edward Irving exclaimed, after his child's death, "Glorious exchange! God took my son to His own more fatherly bosom; and revealed in my bosom the sure expectation and faith of His own eternal Son." Dr. Bushnell once said, "I have learned more of experimental religion since my little boy died than in all my life before." The shepherd of the Alps who cannot get his sheep to climb the higher ascents of the mountains, will take the lambs and throw them up to the shelving rocks, when their dams soon spring up after them. By somewhat similar methods the Shepherd of Israel gathers His flocks on the hills of glory. He removes your children to heaven, that you may follow them thither.

IV. CONSIDER, FURTHER, THE JOY YOUR CHILDREN GAVE YOU WHILE THEY LIVED. Of course, the memory is touched with sadness; but there is room for gratitude. Be thankful that they were yours so long. You were rich in their possession; and you are all the richer for them, even though God has taken them away. Your heart has been enlarged. A fount of feeling has been opened in your nature that never can be dry any more. You are richer in sympathy and in hope; richer towards society and God. In a deep and true sense, your dead children are with you still

(W. Walters.)

---

---

KJV: Thus saith the LORD; A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping; Rahel weeping for her children refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not.

WEB: Thus says Yahweh: A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are no more.