ear, no moan.

"Thou Man of Sorrows, teach my lips that often
Have told the sacred story of my woe,
To speak of Thee till stony griefs I soften,
Till hearts that know Thee not learn Thee to know.

"Till peace takes place of storm and agitation,
Till lying on the current of Thy will
There shall be glorying in tribulation,
And Christ Himself each empty heart shall fill."

Few have the gift or the courage to deal faithfully yet lovingly with an
erring soul, but she did not shrink back even from this service to those
she loved. I can bear witness to the wisdom, penetration, skill, and
fidelity with which she probed a terribly wounded spirit, and then
said with tender solemnity, "_I think you need a great deal of good
praying._"

O, "vanished hand," still beckon to us from the Eternal Heights! O,
"voice that is still," speak to us yet from the Shining Shore!

"Still let thy mild rebuking stand
Between us and the wrong,
And thy dear memory serve to make
Our faith in goodness strong."

[1] See the poem in the appendix to Golden Hours, with the "Reply of the
New Year," written by Mrs. Prentiss.

[2] A clerical circle of New York.

[3] A Unitarian paper, published in New York.

[4] An association of ladies for providing garments and other needed
articles in aid of families of Home and Foreign missionaries, especially
of those connected in any way with their own congregation. Such a circle
is found in most of the American churches.

[5] The passage occurs in a letter to Madame Guyon, dated June 9, 1689.
For another extract from the same letter see appendix F, p. 557.

[6] On the Resurrection of Christ.

[7] Helen Rogers Blakeman, wife of W. N. Blakeman, M.D., was born on the
20th of December, 1811, in the city of New York. She was a granddaughter
of the Rev. James Caldwell, of Elizabethtown, New Jersey, the
Revolutionary patriot. The tragical fate of her grandmother has passed
into history. When the British forces reached Connecticut Farms, on
the 7th of June, 1780, and began to burn and pillage the place, Mrs.
Caldwell, who was then living there, retired with her two children--one
an infant in her arms--to a back room in the house. Here, while engaged
in prayer, she was shot through the window. Two bullets struck her in
the breast and she fell dead upon the floor. The infant in her arms was
Mrs. Blakeman's mother. On the father's side, too, she was of an old and
God-fearing