p. 12 | He Was So Busy

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 30, 1907

He Was So Busy

ONE year ago to-day I sat at my desk busy with the month's bills and accounts, when a bright-faced, starry-eyed lad of twelve rushed in and impetuously announced, “Say, pa, this is your birthday; you are fifty-five years old, and I am going to give you fifty-five kisses, one for each year.” And he began to make good his word when I exclaimed, “O Andrew, don't do it now, I am so busy!” His silence attracted my attention, and, looking up, I saw his big blue eyes filled with tears, and apologetically I said, “You can finish to-morrow.” He made no reply, but was unable to conceal his disappointment, his face wearing a grieved expression as he quietly walked away.

The same evening I said, “Come and finish the kisses now, Andrew,” but he did not respond to the invitation.

Two months later, in consequence of an accident, the waves of the Fox River closed over his body, and we carried him away to sleep near the village where he loved to spend his summer vacations. The robin's note was never sweeter than his voice, and the turtle-doves that coo to their nestlings where he sleeps could not be more gentle than my little boy who never finished his love-imposed task.

If I could tell him how much I regret the thoughtless word spoken; if I could be assured that he understands and knows how my heart is aching because of the unkind request, there would be no man in all this wide world so inexpressibly happy as the one who sits to-day and thinks how he prevented an act that love inspired, and grieved a little heart as tender as the mercy of God.

“And be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted.”—Selected.