Death Pleading with the Mother of a Dying Child.

DEATH:Mother, let me have your child. I will hold her—oh, so gently—so you can rest awhile.

MOTHER:No! You can't have her. Her fever's high. Her poor heart's pounding. She needs me. I'm her mother. I best keep on holding on.

DEATH:But you need rest, and so does she. I'll croon sweet lullabies while angels chorus for eternity.

MOTHER:I am tired, and she's in such pain. But I must hold on. You can't have her. I love her. I won't let her go.

DEATH:I know you love her. But I'll soothe away her pain. I'll cool her fever forever so she'll never suffer again. Please, mother, let me hold your child.

MOTHER:She is my baby-child—she's in such pain—and I love her so. I have to submit—I have to let her go. Here, you can have my child.

DEATH:Thank you, dear mother. You'll know—in time—what I ask is right. And, I promise, you'll hear the songs of love I sing for her, you'll hear them every night.

MOTHER: Yes, I know each midnight as she suckles, each time she's at my breast, I'll hear those songs of love till I join her at her rest.

DEATH: Thank you, dear mother.