With such words Mrs. Hamilton sought to soothe and strengthen her child,
while her own heart was throbbing with painful emotions. She could not
sleep that night, for her heart yearned over her darling boy, and she
longed to fold him under the shelter of a loving home. She felt that she
needed in her own heart more of that perfect submission to God's will
which she enjoined on others, and it was only by earnest and humble
prayer that she could calm her troubled spirit, and feel trust and
confidence that all was for the best. But she had found prayer to be a
balm for the wounded spirit in many an hour of suffering, and she now
realized the sweetness of that inestimable privilege.
"Oh not a gift or blessing
With this can we compare;
The power which he hath given,
To pour our souls in prayer."
CHAPTER IV.
THE PRESENT.
Arthur left home early Monday morning. It was a cold, dreary day
without, and a dreary one within to Mrs. Hamilton. She had no unoccupied
moments in which to sit down, and pore over her troubles; but amid all
her cares and labors, the pleading, sorrowful face of her boy would rise
before her, like an accusing angel. She feared she had shown him too
little sympathy in his sufferings, and had too much repressed the
manifestation of his feelings. She seemed to herself, as her
imagination followed her weeping boy, a cruel, heartless mother; and
again only in prayer could she find relief and peace, and even then, a
weight still rested upon her spirits.
