A Beautiful Tribute to a Little Child.

Julian Wikle, son of John H. and Mrs. Virginia Wikle, was born May 31, 1887. On May 18, 1888, an angel kissed him and he fell asleep.

Out of Darkness comes the Light.  Out of Death comes Immortality.  Out of the Grave blossoms the Tree of Life.

That the cradle should be empty, that the sweet baby should have left its mother’s arms and coo no more at his father’s coming, that sorrow should hang about the home which late his presence filled with joy –these things are full of grief to loving hearts.

Beyond the border of this darkness we may not see with human vision.  Here human vision fails.  Here human hearts turn in upon themselves.

But even this dark border is fringed with light.  By faith we lift our struggling sight, and, vision thereby clarified, see Him, the son of Mary, with little children in His arms, and hear that voice which makes the babe in every age and clime the type of Heaven say “Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Of the great loss, of the bitter pain, which this death brings; of the bright world beyond to which a father’s and a mother’s longing hopes are by this bereavement turned; it is not meet that this memento speak.  From this little grave I turn to those words of the great master of pathetic fiction: “Oh it is hard to take to heart the lesson that such deaths will teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn, and is a mighty, universal truth.  When death strikes down the innocent and young, for every fragile form from which he lets the panting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity and love, to walk the world and bless it.  Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, some good is born, some gentler nature comes.  In the destroyer’s steps there spring up bright creations that defy his power, and his dark path becomes a way of light to Heaven. --- John W. Akin