But, unlike Him, my son is only human, with weaknesses that are our common lot.
"The years are flying, and strength is failing! I must die soon and he will live.

That thought burns my brain, passing through it day by day.
His life may be long extended and he cannot live alone, nor among men, for he would be a stranger and friendless--feared and dreaded by superstitious fools.

He has never seen a human face outside these walls nor heard a human voice but mine.

I have told you my trouble." He ceased writing, but before I had finished reading the statement some strange influence came over me.

I felt restless and uncomfortable.