Although the cares that came upon us in connection with the publishing work and other branches of the cause involved much perplexity, the greatest sacrifice which I was called to make in connection with the work was to leave my children frequently to the care of others.
(LS 165.1)
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Henry had been from us five years, and Edson had received but little of our care. For years at Rochester our family had been very large, and our home like a hotel, and we from that home much of the time. I had felt the deepest anxiety that my children should be brought up free from evil habits, and I was often grieved as I thought of the contrast between my situation and that of others who would not take burdens and cares, who could ever be with their children, to counsel and instruct them, and who spent their time almost exclusively in their own families. And I have inquired: Does God require so much of us, and leave others without burdens? Is this equality? Are we to be thus hurried on from one care to another, one part of the work to another, and have but little time to bring up our children?
(LS 165.2)
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In 1860 death stepped over our threshold, and broke the youngest branch of our family tree. Little Herbert, born September 20, 1860, died December 14 of the same year. When that tender branch was broken, how our hearts did bleed none may know but those who have followed their little ones of promise to the grave.
(LS 165.3)
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But oh, when our noble Henry died, [The death of Henry N. White occurred at Topsham, Maine, December 8, 1863.] At the age of sixteen,—when our sweet singer was borne to the grave, and we no more heard his early song,—ours was a lonely home. Both parents and the two remaining sons felt the blow most keenly. But God comforted us in our bereavements, and with faith and courage we pressed forward in the work He had given us, in bright hope of meeting our children who had been torn from us by death, in that world where sickness and death will never come.
(LS 165.4)
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