Life sketches of ellen g. white

to leave my children frequently to the care of others. p.
165, Para. 1, [LS15].
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? p. 165, Para. 2, [LS15].
Loss of Children -- In 1860 death stepped over our
threshold, and broke the youngest branch of our family
tree. Little Herbert, born Sept. 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. p.
165, Para. 3, [LS15].
But oh, when our noble Henry died, 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. p. 165, Para. 4, [LS15].
We feel the loss of our dear Henry very much We miss him
everywhere. The youngest and oldest branches of the family
tree has been broken off. We return from our eastern
journey wounded but not comfortless. p. 166, Para. 1,
[LS15].
It was a great blessing to be permitted to watch the last
beautiful hours of my first born. My sweet singer is dead.
No more will his voice unite with us around the family
altar. No more will music be called forth by his touch. No