The following is taken from a 19th century English prose and poetry magazine. It is a useful remembrance for those of us who have suffered recent loss of family, friends, or pets.

“The sinless soul of the cherub child, that dies on its mother’s breast, wings its way to heaven, unconscious of the joys it might share here, as well as of the many, many miseries of which it might be partaker. This can hardly be called death. It is but the calm, soft ebbing of the gentle tide of life, to flow no more in the troubled ocean of existence; it is but the removal of a fair creature –“too pure for earthly stay”– to make one of that bright band of cherubims which encompasses in glory and in joy the throne of the living God.”