A little dear child lay in its crib and sobbed, because it was afraid of the dark. And its father, in the room below, heard the sobs, and came up, and said,

“What ails you, my dearie, and why do you cry?”

And the child said, “Oh, father, I am afraid of the dark. Nurse says I am too big to have a taper; but all the corners are full of dreadful blackness, and I think there are Things in them with eyes, that would look at me if I looked at them; and if they looked at me I should die. Oh, father, why is it dark? why is there such a terrible thing as darkness? why cannot it be always day?”

The father took the child in his arms and carried it downstairs and out into the summer night.

“Look up, dearie!” he said, in his strong, kind voice. “Look up, and see God’s little lights!”

The little one looked up, and saw the stars, spangling the blue veil of the sky; bright as candles they burned, and yellow as gold.

“Oh, father,” cried the child; “what are those lovely things?”

“Those are stars,” said the father. “Those are God’s little lights.”

“But why have I never seen them before?”

“Because you are a very little child, and have never been out in the night before.”

“Can I see the stars only at night, father?”

“Only at night, my child!”

“Do they only come then, father?”

“No; they are always there, but we cannot see them when the sun is shining.”

“But, father, the darkness is not terrible here, it is beautiful!”

“Yes, dearie; the darkness is always beautiful, if we will only look up at the stars, instead of into the corners.”