Again Henry sat staring blankly at Fanny's picture. Then he thought, Perhaps Charles is right. At any rate, it’s great that things look hopeful on the National front. But how can I forget Fanny's death and Charles' serious injury? Surely God could have prevented these things if he wanted to.
Meanwhile, the ever-deepening pealing of the bells was heard by the children as they played noisily in the snow, drowning out their screams and squeals of delight. To them, the bells said, “Christmas is here—enjoy it.” And they did.
The sun kept rising higher and higher in the sky, sending its streaming rays of sunlight through Henry's study window. Some of the beams of sunlight illuminated the newspaper on his desk. He glanced at it once more. As he re-read the hopeful news, he began to feel that perhaps all was not lost. Charles' words of hope came back to him. Perhaps, he thought, war injury and death are not the end after all, as Charles has been trying to tell me. As the bells began to peal even more strongly and loudly, their sound began filling his despairing heart with a renewed sense of hope. He removed the ear muffs and lifted his head again. He now asked himself why he had been so hopeless. As long as God is alive and awake, he told himself, there is hope. Reaching into the wastebasket, he pulled out the crumpled up paper and picked up his pen once more. This time he wrote what has become a message of hope for all subsequent generations:
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."
Elated, Henry scribbled a title at top of the page: “Christmas bells.”
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