Then Israel held back his heart no longer, but wept above her, and called to her, and cried aloud upon her name-- "Naomi! Naomi! My poor child! My dearest! Hear me! It is nothing! nothing! Listen! It is gone! Gone!" With such passionate cries of love and sorrow; Israel gave vent to his soul in its trouble.

And while Naomi lay in her unconsciousness, he knew not what feelings possessed him, for his heart was in a great turmoil.
Desolate! desolate! All was desolate! His high-built hopes were in ashes! Sometimes he remembered the days when the child knew no sorrow, and when grief came not near her, when she was brighter than the sun which she could not see and sweeter than the songs which she could not hear, when she was joyous as a bird in its narrow cage and fretted not at the bars which bound her, when she laughed as she braided her hair and came dancing out of her chamber at dawn.

And remembering this, he looked down at her knitted face, and his heart grew bitter, and he lifted up his voice through the tumult of the storm, and cried again on the God of Jacob, and rebuked Him for the marvellous work which He had wrought.
If God were an almighty God, surely He looked before and after, and foresaw what must come to pass.

And, foreseeing and knowing all, why had God answered his prayer?
He himself had been a fool.

Why had he craved God's pity?
Once his poor child was blither than the panther of the wilderness and happier than the young lamb that sports in springtime.