my Bible through twice during the past sixteen months, but I must read it
with more prayer for light and understanding. Oh, may it be my meat and
drink! May I meditate on it day and night! And then I shall bring forth
fruit in season; my leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever I do shall
prosper.'

She had also her own private ways of denying herself, not for the sake of
earning money or praise by it, but simply because she felt it was right.
One of these rules was to do without dinner, and butter at breakfast,
once in the week, because she felt it helped her in her soul.

I cannot end this chapter without telling you of the one great sorrow
which darkened all her early years. Some of you, I know, will enter into
her feelings so well.

Her father, at one time saved and earnest about the souls of others, had
grown cold and backslidden, and now never even went near a Meeting. You
can fancy what agony this was to both Mrs. Mumford and her daughter. They
prayed and wept in vain--he only seemed to get more indifferent.
Catherine would sometimes write her feelings and her sorrow in her diary,
and there we read:--

'I sometimes get into an agony of feeling while praying for my dear
father. Oh, my Lord, answer prayer, and bring him back to Thyself! Never
let that tongue which once delighted in praising Thee, and in showing
others Thy willingness to save, be engaged in uttering the lamentations
of the lost! Oh, awful thought! Lord, have mercy! Save, Oh! save him in
any way Thou seest best, though it be ever so painful. If by removing me
Thou canst do this, cut short Thy work, and take me Home. Let me be bold
to speak in Thy name. Oh, give me true courage and liberty, and when I