Read Online Buried in the Snow by Franz Hoffman - Free Book Online

of the old man. He had been all day unusually silent and thoughtful; toward evening he roused himself from his abstraction.
    “ ‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me?’” said he. “Have we a right to murmur or complain, my son, when we think of the blessed Saviour, who voluntarily, for the salvation of poor sinners, left the glory of heaven, and came down to earth, where he drained the bitter cup of sorrow? What are our sufferings compared with his? We have a shelter and a refuge. God’s own Son had nowhere to lay His head. We, perchance, are forgotten of men. Jesus, the holy, innocent Lamb of God, was by men persecuted, mocked, yea, even put to death, the cruel death of the cross. We have no right to be impatient, my son, or sorrowful. Let us pray, that we may be able from our hearts to say, ‘O Lord, for Thy sake, I will cheerfully suffer whatsoever shall come on me with Thy permission. If it be Thy will that I should be in darkness, be Thou blessed; and if it be Thy will that I should be in light, be Thou again blessed. If Thou vouchsafe [2] to comfort me, be Thou blessed; and if Thou wilt have me afflicted, be Thou blessed also.’”
    “I will try and not murmur or complain, grandfather,” replied the boy. “I will bear cheerfully all that God sends upon us, if only he spare me the bitterest cup of sorrow.”
    “And what is that, my child?”
    “If you should be seriously sick, grandfather: I could not bear to see you suffer.”
    “My dear Jacques, as bitter as this cup may appear, you must be prepared to put it to your lips: I am old, my poor body is weak, held fast by many fears, racked with many cares, worn with many labors. Wherefore shall I fear to enter into my father’s kingdom, and see his glory and enter into His kingdom where there is no more sin and sorrow? The days of this life though filled with evil have also been filled with great joy and beauty. Only one wish I have: to see you, my son, restored to your father, before I go hence. But, should God will it otherwise, and take me to himself, before we return to our home in the valley I still have confidence in you, my boy, that you will bear my death without giving way to despair. What help am I to you, my child? I am nothing but a burden—a chain which you ever drag about with you, which only your filial love for me enables you to bear. You are the one that has labored; I have only advised. Why dread an event that sooner or later must happen? And wherefore grieve before the time? I am not so weak that there is no longer room for hope. Your love and watchful care for me, and the blessing of God upon them, can prolong my life until the spring; and I may yet see the fresh, green woods and valley.”
    Jacques was but little comforted by these persuasive words, and still wept, continuing the entire day sorrowful and depressed. The old man saw that the sad theme must be discontinued, and the boy’s thoughts diverted, if possible.
    “Jacques,” said he, in cheerful tones, “something has occurred to me that I think will be to our advantage. Suppose we try to make some cheese from our goat’s milk? Have you ever thought of it?”
    His grandfather could not have devised anything better. So soon as the lad had employment, he forgot for the time all else, and with the ardor of youth exclaimed:
    “That is a splendid idea, grandfather: tomorrow I will try what I can do.”
    Upon the following day he went briskly to work: he succeeded almost beyond his expectations, the cheese looking so tempting as to delight the boy greatly; but, when Jacques brought it to his grandfather for his approval, all his fears and cares returned, for the old man was lying down, feeling too weak and exhausted to rise. It was with some difficulty that he quieted the lad, and he endeavored to appear, for his sake, better than he really was. He felt that his strength was failing day by day, and that there was less and less probability of