“Father,” said a dying heathen girl, “Father, where am I going? What lies before me in the darkness? Oh, father, I am frightened. Help me! Help me!”
“My little girl,” groaned the stricken man, “I cannot tell. There are other lives beyond, though the body decays in the grave, but―”
“Oh father, are they happy lives? Or shall I suffer there? Can you not give me hope? What do your books say? Tell me! Help me!”
But he knew nothing more. Not even his love for his dying child could pierce the impenetrable pall shrouding so much mystery and terror.
And in the darkness the slender fingers tightened upon the father’s hand till they grew cold in death.
The message of hope reached that father, and he found rest; but the child of his love had passed out into the dark because of the indifference, the heartlessness of the Christian Church.