At such times a tremour would seize the boy's heart.
The mother saw it; and, one night, when his fixed tender gaze rested
on her, she raised her spiritual eyes to his, and said,
"Dear Gotleib! thou wilt yet have the good God to love."
"Ah, mother,! mother!" cried the boy, "wilt thou, too, leave me?"
His head was bowed upon her knees in bitter grief, the desolation of
earth was spread like an impenetrable pall over his whole future.
Suddenly he looked up, full of a strange, bright hope, and said,
"Mother, I too may die."
Then the mother put off her weakness, and long and loving was the
talk she held with her dear boy. She told him that from a little one
he had ever loved God; that the first word he had ever pronounced
was the name of the Holy One. She had taught him to clasp his tiny
baby hands and look up and say "God," ere any other word had passed
his lips. She had named him Gotleib, because he was the love of God
to her, and he was to be a lover of God. As she talked, the boy grew
strong and calm, and said,
"Yet, oh, my mother! God is so great for the heart of a small child.
God is so high and lifted up in the far heavens, that I feel myself
but as a tiny blade of grass that looks up to the far sun--dear
mother! the earth will be too lonely; ah, there is no hope but in
death.
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