Her: Abba, she’s gone …
Her Father, somberly: Yes, child.
Her: But how? How could she die so suddenly? She was so full of life.
Her Father: Dear one, I numbered her days without mistake.
Her: But did she know You? At the end — did she?
Her Father, gently: If you never know in this life, can you entrust this secret thing to Me?
Her: Then I’m to have no comforting answer?
Her Father, softly: Precious child, shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?