His second child, Elizabeth, was born during the prevalence of the contagious disease in Wittenberg before alluded to. She lived only nine months, and Luther’s grief at her death was excessive. He thus writes to Hausman: “Never could I have believed a parent’s heart could be so tender towards children; seldom have I mourned so deeply. My sorrow is like that of a woman.” The death of his third child, Magdalena, at the age of 14, was a severe affliction. She was a girl of unusual promise; amiable, gifted, and pious. Her complete resignation to the will of God—her vivid conception of the doctrines of the Bible—her strong faith in the Saviour, and her filial and religious virtues, distinguished her far above many of her tender years. She was for a long time confined to bed, and she felt that her end was rapidly drawing nigh. She ardently desired to see her brother John, who was a student at the academy at Torgau. The father gratified her wish, and despatched a messenger to summon the absent son to the death-bed of his sister. Luther, as far as was possible, watched by the side of the dying child. Although the trial was severe, his patient submission to the will of God was characteristic of the man and the Christian. “Alas!” sighed he, “I love this child most tenderly; but O, God, as it is thy will to take her to thyself, I cheerfully resign her into thy hands.” Then he advanced to the bed and spoke to the suffering child, “Magdalena, my daughter, you would willingly remain with your father on earth, and yet you also desire to go to your Father in heaven.” On which she replied, “Yes, dearest father, just as it pleases God.” He continued, “Dearest child, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Overcome by emotion, he turned away and said: “Oh! how I love this suffering child! but if the flesh is now so strong, what will then the spirit be!—well, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.” When she was breathing her last, the mother, overwhelmed with sorrow, retired from the couch; Luther threw himself on his knees, wept convulsively, and implored God to release the child from suffering; he then took her by the hand—and she died. The father at once had recourse to the Scriptures to seek consolation for his grievous loss. He opened the book, and the passage, Romans 14; 7, first arrested his attention: “For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself.” This expressive passage was as a balsam to his wounded heart. When the body was deposited in the coffin, he said, “Thou dear Magdalena! how happy thou art! O, dear Magdalena, thou wilt rise again, and wilt shine like a star, yea, like the sun.” But the coffin having been made too small, he said, “This bed is too small for her, now that she is dead. I am indeed joyful in the spirit, but after the flesh I am very sad; the flesh is slow to come to the trial; this separation troubles us exceedingly; it is a marvellous thing to know that she is certainly happy, and yet for