sorrow-stricken, despairing children, whose 'tears on their cheeks' are ever in my eyes, and whose sighs are ever in my ears, may however prevent my enjoying the happiness I so much desire. But, courage, courage, courage!—the great work of my life (the unseen hand that 'guided me, and who had indeed holden my right hand, may hold it still,' though I have not known Him at all as I ought) I may yet see accomplished (God helping), and be permitted to return, and 'rest at evening.'
"Oh, my daughter Ruth! Could any plan be devised whereby you could let Henry go 'to school' (as you expressed it in your letter to him while in Kansas), I would rather now have him 'for another term' than to have a hundred average scholars. I have a particular and very important, but not dangerous, place for him to fill in the 'school,' and I know of no man living so well adapted to fill it. I am quite confident some way can be devised so that you and your children could be with him, and be quite happy even, and safe; but God forbid me to flatter you in trouble!"[1]
To his friend Sanborn he said: "I believe when you come to look at the ample field I labor in, and the rich harvest which not only this entire country but the whole world during the present and future generations may reap from its successful cultivation, you will feel that you are in it, an entire unit. What an inconceivable amount of good you might so effect by your counsel, your example, your en-
- ↑ Letter to his family, 1858, in Sanborn, pp. 440–441.
