"In Dod's han's"

The wee one was only three, but so attached to her daddy that when war took him from home she drooped like a flower without water. Food and toys were ignored. One quest only she pursued from morning till night, climbing up and down stairs with the plaintive cry, "Where's daddy?" She did not linger for the answer—the name of a place gave no comfort.

That cry, ringing in the mother's ears, roused her to see that the child was fading away under a wave of human sympathy that settled down on the household like a mist. It was based on the belief of separation, which would serve to put the absentee, in their thought, outside the kingdom of heaven, just as as it was separating the child from the harmony of her home. "Something must be done at once," reasoned the mother, "and Truth is the sure remedy. I have been feeding the child chaff in giving her the name of a mere place! No wonder she is starved; nothing satisfies but the truth! Did not Jesus say, 'The truth shall make you free'?"

Then she turned to "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures" by Mrs. Eddy (p. 181): "It is unnecessary to resort to aught besides Mind in order to satisfy the sick that you are doing something for them, for if they are cured, they generally know it and are satisfied." "But," whispered doubting Thomas, "are you sure that such a strange malady can be cured?" "Positive!" was the retort; in the words of the same author (ibid., p. 207), "Every scientific statement in Christianity has its proof." Thus reinforced, the mother could face the next "Where's daddy?" with this positive reassurance: "He is in God's hands, doing God's work!" This challenged the child's attention. She was more deliberate, but the round trips and question continued all that day, and the next, and the next—with always the same answer; yet the mother did not yield to discouragement—even Jesus took three days for his work in the tomb. On the fourth day came her reward. The babe awoke, satisfied and happy, without a sign of the question, nor did she ever ask it again.

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Poem
To the Wise
March 13, 1943
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