I quietly went to our bedroom, closing the door behind me. And by the bedside, I prayed and calmly lay my son on the altar. I did not like doing it. I cannot say my heart was in it. But I did it. I was not a cheerful giver, but neither did I give him up grudgingly – I felt a sense of foreboding, but there was no struggle. I believed it was what I needed to do. Because that was the only thing to do.
The altar was the safest place for Hans to be.
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You Can Trust Him 