Then he sought in prayer the strength he needed, for what remained to be done. When he entered the death-chamber, the mother was kneeling beside her child, whom she had herself prepared for her last resting-place, and was placing a branch of rosemary between the cold fingers.
How fair and lovely she was, her sweet, little Magdalena. Even death could not mar nor destroy her gentle beauty, which seemed only glorified,—as it will be upon the last day, when the grave shall yield up its prey, and what was sown in corruption, shall be raised in incorruption.
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."