The sick man breathed with great difficulty, and still groaned, but he no longer cursed.

The mother, wild with hope, murmured tearfully, with clasped hands.
"The miracle, the miracle, the miracle!" "_Caro_ [dear one]," Benedetto said, "you are in God's hand, and you feel its might.

Give yourself up to Him, and you will feel its gentleness.

Let His hand place you once more in the ocean of life, or place you in heaven, or place you where it will, but give yourself up, do not think of that.

When you were a little child your mother carried you, and you asked neither how, nor when, nor why; you were in her arms, you were in her love, you asked nothing more.