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Therefore I prayed God to take my son before his
eyes were opened.
“If only you had loved him! Oh, why did you
come to sweeten our lives, when you did not love
him? Had he not died, I should have been
compelled to tell him that you were only taking him
out of pity. I should have made him give you up
and so wrecked his happiness. Rather than disturb
the peace in his heart, I prayed that he might
die.”
She paused for a response; but Anna could not
speak; she was still listening to the many voices
in her soul.
Then the mother cried out in despair: “Happy
they who can mourn their dead with tears! I must
stand dry-eyed at the grave of my son, I must
rejoice over his death. What unhappiness is mine!”
Anna Stjärnhök pressed her hand to her heart.
She remembered the winter night when she had
sworn by her love to be to these poor people a stay
and a comfort, and she shuddered. Had all then
been in vain? Was her sacrifice not one acceptable
to God? Must it all be turned to a curse? But if
she were to sacrifice everything, would not God
then give His blessing to the work, and let her be
a bringer of happiness, a help and comfort to others?
“What is required to make you mourn for your
son?” she asked.
“That I shall no longer believe the evidence of
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