when my grandmother commended our family to Christ, the tide of
influence going on until this hour, and it will never cease.

My mother died in her seventy-sixth year. Through a long life of
vicissitude she lived harmlessly and usefully, and came to her end in
peace. We had often heard her, when leading family prayers in the
absence of my father, say, "O Lord, I ask not for my children wealth or
honour, but I do ask that they all may be the subjects of Thy converting
grace." Her eleven children brought into the kingdom of God, she had but
one more wish, and that was that she might see her long-absent
missionary son, and when the ship from China anchored in New York
harbour, and the long-absent one passed over the threshold of his
paternal home, she said, "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in
peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation." The prayer was soon
answered.

My father, as long as I can remember, was an elder in churches. He
conducted prayer-meetings in the country, when he was sometimes the only
man to take part, giving out a hymn and leading the singing; then
reading the Scriptures and offering prayer; then giving out another hymn
and leading in that; and then praying again; and so continuing the
meeting for the usual length of time, and with no lack of interest.

When the church choir would break down, everybody looked around to see
if he were not ready with "Woodstock," "Mount Pisgah" or "Uxbridge." And
when all his familiar tunes failed to express the joy of his soul, he
would take up his own pen, draw five long lines across the sheet, put in
the notes, and then to the tune he called "Bound Brook," begin to sing:

As when the weary traveller gains