On the third day, the mortal remains of little Lena lay in her flower-strewn coffin, which, because of the crowds of people, had been placed in the court under the pear-tree. Luther pressed a last kiss upon the still face. "Thou dear child,--it is well with thee! Thou wilt rise again, and shine as a star,--yea, as the sun. My spirit rejoices, but according to the flesh I am very sorrowful; for parting is painful beyond measure. It is strange,--to know that she is at peace,--and yet to mourn!" He thanked the people who had came to testify their sympathy, adding: "Rejoice with me, for I have now a blessed saint in Heaven. Oh! may we all have such a death as hers!" "Yes, Reverend Doctor," exclaimed a voice from the crowd, "you say truly,--yet every one would fain keep his own." Luther replied: "I am glad, that she is in Heaven; my sorrow is all of the flesh." Then Katharine, supported by Melanchthon's wife, tottered toward the coffin, to bid her child a last farewell. At the sight of her, the bystanders began to weep and lament aloud, and Wolfgang, who had also approached, turned away--he could not see the mother's grief. Lena's grave was beside that of her sister Elizabeth, and for the second time, Wolfgang must needs force his trembling hands to fashion a cross, upon which Luther wrote these words: "I little Magdalen, sleep here, I'm Doctor Luther's daughter dear, In this small chamber I shall rest, Till summoned forth with all the blest; Tho' born in sin, not lost am I-- As was decreed--eternally. I live, and all is well and good: Christ ransomed me with His own blood." When Luther returned from the burial, he said to his wife. "Our little daughter is at rest, both in body and soul. We Christians should not murmur,--knowing that it must be thus, and being sure of eternal life: for God's promise, given through His dear Son, cannot fail." "Ah, you are a strong man," sighed Katharine; "but a mother cannot so quickly master her sorrow, and a woman's heart is a weak and timid thing. God will have patience with me--I will not murmur." "Weep freely, dearest Kate," said Luther, "therefore were tears given us, and God knows best, what miserable vessels of clay we are. He remembers, that we are but dust, and bears with us, that His strength may be made perfect in our weakness. And consider this: Time is short; in a little while we shall meet again with rejoicing, and our joy no man taketh from us." She clasped her hands, lifted her sad eyes toward Heaven, and prayed: "Yea, Lord Jesus, come quickly." CHAPTER XXIII. ONCE MORE IN ZULSDORF.