wish you wouldn't call us." I
have felt as I have listened to them speaking thus to their mother that,
just at that particular time and in the middle of the day, they could,
apparently, get along very well without their mother. But I have noticed
this also, that at night time, after their mother had prayed with them
and the lights were turned out, there was another story to tell. It
seems to me that I can still hear one of the boys calling out in the
dark to his mother, "Mamma, are you there?"

"Yes, son."

"Mamma."

"Yes."

"Is your face turned towards me?"

"Yes."

"Mamma, will you hold my hand? It's dark, isn't it, Mamma? Good night,
Mamma."

Ah, yes, in the day-time they might think they could get along very well
without their mother, but when the night comes, and the lights are all
out, and it's dark, then nobody on earth but mother will do.

So it is with you, my friend. In your bravado of health and strength you
may say that you are not afraid of death, but you wait until your feet
come down to the brink of the river; then there will be a different
story to tell. Some men haven't much use for God in life, but nobody
else but God will do in the hour of death.

=_The Valley Is Certain and Narrow_=

Death is certain. It is appointed unto men once to die. While the Lord
tarries, every child of Adam will have to pass through the experience of
death.

There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair!

--_Henry W. Longfellow_

We cannot bribe death. We cannot avoid or evade passing through the
valley of the shadow. We cannot dig under it, nor tunnel around it, nor
fly over it. Face it we must. It behooves us, therefore, to make sure
that we have the light and the life which alone will secure for us a
happy exit from this valley and a glorious entrance into the unfading
light of a new day.

The valley of the shadow of death is narrow, very narrow--so narrow
indeed that even a mother cannot take her one-hour-old babe with her. It
is so narrow. She must go through the valley alone. Single file, if you
please, is the order of march through this valley of the shadow. An aged
woman lay dying. By her bedside, with his hand in hers, sat the man who
for over fifty years had been her husband. The light was failing fast,
and eternity drawing near to the aged woman. Grasping