had thrilled responsive to his words. It seemed as if the very breath
of Heaven had entered into the little church, cleansing and purifying
each soul present, and filling it with inexpressible devotion, when,
like a soft, trembling wave, the pure young voice came floating down
the aisles, and we heard the solemn acknowledgment,--

"A charge to keep I have,
A God to glorify;
A precious, blood-bought soul to save,
And fit it for the sky."

She sang alone; a feeling too deep for utterance had prevented the
rest from joining in, and many heads were bent in silent prayer and
thanksgiving.

But oh! what did I see? Pale as death, her eyes dilated, her whole
frame quivering like an aspen, Mabel arose and essayed to speak. The
muscles of her mouth refused to obey her will, but with a painful
effort she faltered in low, broken tones, "Pray for me," and sank down
upon her knees.

It was the voice of God that spoke in those three little words, "_Pray
for me_," uttered so low, yet distinctly heard in every part of the
church. Joyful tears were streaming down many women's faces, as for
the first time the singer's voice trembled, broke, and at last sobbed
through the humble entreaty,--

"Just as I am--without one plea,
But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou bid'st me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come."

As she finished, a young minister who was living in the same house
with us, and whose life had been nearly sacrificed in missionary
labors, bowed in prayer. The radiance of Heaven was upon his face, and
God spoke through him to the awakened soul of Mabel in a way I had
never heard before. The words poured out in an inspired flood,
carrying her soul resistless upon its mighty waves to repentance,
faith, prayer, praise, love, joy, peace, and at last heaven!

With a solemn benediction the services were ended; and when we had
come out, it seemed as if the very heavens were rejoicing over the
tidings which had gone up of the soul that day redeemed. All that was
gorgeous and beautiful in color had taken possession of the sky. The
clouds, like great gold and crimson banners, were moving high over our
heads, furling and unfurling, as if carried by exultant angels,
marching and singing their triumphant allelujahs.

And Mabel, still white as an Easter lily, but with her deep gray eyes
full of a new happiness, a steadfast resolution to live henceforth for
Christ, walked by my side