ning that the end came.

She had been sleeping quietly for some hours, sleeping while darkness
passed away till day had fully dawned and the east was flushing with
crimson and gold.

Her mother sat by the bedside gazing with tender glistening eyes upon the
little wan face, thinking how placid was its expression, what an almost
unearthly beauty it wore, when suddenly the large azure eyes opened wide,
gazing steadily into hers, while the sweetest smile played about the lips.

"Mamma, dear mamma, how good you've been to me! Jesus is here, he has
come for me. I'm going now. Dear, darling mamma, kiss me good-bye."

"My darling! my darling!" Elsie cried, pressing a kiss of passionate love
upon the sweet lips.

"Dear mamma," they faintly whispered--and were still.

Kneeling by the bedside, Elsie gathered the little wasted form in her
arms, pillowing the beautiful golden head upon her bosom, while again and
again she kissed the pale brow, the cheeks, the lips; then laying it down
gently she stood gazing upon it with unutterable love and mingled joy and
anguish.

"It was well with the child," and no rebellious thought arose in her
heart, but ah, what an aching void was there! how empty were her arms,
though so many of her darlings were still spared to her.

A quiet step drew near, a strong arm was passed about her waist, and a
kind hand drew her head to a resting-place on her husband's breast.

"Is it so?" he said in moved tones, gazing through a mist of tears upon
the quiet face of the young sleeper. "Ah, darling, our precious lamb is
safely folded at last. He has gathered her in his arms and is carrying her
in his bosom."

There was no bitterness in the tears that were shed to the memory of
little Lily; her short life had been so full of suffering, her passing
away was so joyful that they must rejoice for her even while they wept for
their own heavy loss.

They laid her body in the family burialground and mamma and the children
went very often to scatter flowers upon the graves, reserving the fairest
and sweetest for the little mound that looked so fresh and new.

"But she is not here," Rosie would say, "she's gone to the dear home above
where Jesus is. And she's so happy. She'll never be sick any more because
it says, 'Neither shall there be any more pain.'"

Lily was never spoken of as lost or as dead; she had only gone before to
the happy land whither they all were journeying, and where they should
find her a