se became very popular.

It was as poet and hymn-writer, however, that Mrs. Prentiss was destined
to achieve fame. Her volume, "Religious Poems," numbering one hundred and
twenty-three, breathes a spirit of fervent devotion to Christ. "To love
Christ more," she said, "is the deepest need, the constant cry of my
soul.... Out in the woods, and on my bed, and out driving, when I am
happy and busy, and when I am sad and idle, the whisper keeps going up
for more love, more love, more love!"

It is easy to understand how such a longing should finally find
expression in her most famous hymn, "More love to Thee, O Christ." The
hymn in reality was the prayer of her life. It was born in 1856 during a
time of great physical suffering and spiritual anxiety. It was written in
great haste, and the last stanza was left incompleted. Not until thirteen
years later did Mrs. Prentiss show it to her husband. She then added a
final line with a pencil and gave it to the printer, intending it only
for private distribution. The following year, however, the "Great
Revival" swept over America, and the hymn sprang into popularity
everywhere.

When in August, 1878, the mortal remains of the sanctified singer were
lowered into the grave, a company of intimate friends stood with bared
heads and sang "More love to Thee, O Christ." The whole Christian world
seemed to join in mourning her death. From far-off China came a message
of sympathy to the bereaved husband in the form of a fan on which
Christian Chinese had inscribed the famous hymn in native characters.

After her death the following verse was found written on the flyleaf of
one of her favorite books:

One hour with Jesus! How its peace outweighs
The ravishment of earthly love and praise;
How dearer far, emptied of self to lie
Low at His feet, and catch, perchance, His eye,
Alike content when He may give or take,
The sweet, the bitter, welcome for His sake.

A Hymn of the Sea

Jesus, Saviour, pilot me
Over life's tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal;
Chart and compass came from Thee:
Jesus, Saviour, pilot me.

As a mother stills her child,
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boisterous waves obey Thy will
When Thou say'st to them, "Be still!"
Wondrous Sovereign of the sea,
Jesus, Saviour, pilot me.

When at last I near the shore