Hensall RR 1
Oct 3rd 1917

Dear Mrs Johns

I have somehow felt constrained to write to you since I heard of the death of your son in France that land where so many of our own Canadian boys have fallen in the defence of what we believe to be right. Your boy helped to bury mine and he was the first one that wrote to us, a kindness that we appreciated very much as we wondered whether he would have a decent burial or not. I only hope someone is as kind in letting you know about your son. We did not raise our boys for this and I wonder sometimes if it is worth the price paid in so much blood, the only thing that seems left to us is to live so as to be worthy of their sacrifice. they certainly have set a high water mark for their parents. I do not know how you felt but somehow I had always felt that my boy would come back to us again. why I felt so I do not know. We loved them well but God loved them best. They have found early, the sum of all things and though it is hard for us to realize it. We know that they are far better off.

I am going to write you a little poem that I found in my reading that seemed to fit my case so well that I have hopes it may be of some comfort to you who have lost.

I know I know
The ceaseless ache the emptiness the woe
The pang of loss- The strength that sinks beneath so sore a cross. Heedless and careless still the world wags on. And leaves me broken. Ah my son, my son
Yet think of this, Yea rather think of this - He died as few men have the chance to die -
Fighting to save a worlds morality. He died as few men have the chance to die
He died the noblest death a man may die Fighting for God and right and liberty And such a death is Immortality. He died unnoticed in the muddy trench Nay but God was there with him and he did not blench
Filled him with holy fires that not could quench
And when he saw his work below was done
He gently called to him my son my son. I need thee for a greater work than this Thy faith Thy zeal thy fine activities are worthy of my larger liberties. Then drew him with the hand of welcoming grace. And side by side they climbed the heavenly way.

Yours in sorrow and sympathy.
Mrs Hey. Strang