on it too. How often, when lying awake at night, my time for thinking,
do I go back to those wonderful days!"

She owed much to her association with the Church, but more to her
Bible. Once a girl asked her for something to read, and she handed her
the Book saying, "Take that; it has made me a changed lassie." The
study of it was less a duty than a joy; it was like reading a message
addressed specially to herself, containing news of surpassing personal
interest and import. God was very real to her. To think that behind all
the strain and struggle and show of the world there was a Personality,
not a thought or a dream, not something she could not tell what, in
spaces she knew not where, but One who was actual and close to her,
overflowing with love and compassion, and ready to listen to her, and
to heal and guide and strengthen her--it was marvellous. She wished to
know all He had to tell her, in order that she might rule her conduct
according to His will. Most of all it was the story of Christ that she
pored over and thought about. His Divine majesty, the beauty and grace
of His life, the pathos of His death on the Cross, affected her
inexpressibly. But it was His love, so strong, so tender, so pitiful,
that won her heart and devotion and filled her with a happiness and
peace that suffused her inner life like sunshine. In return she loved
Him with a love so intense that it was often a pain. She felt that she
could not do enough for one who had done so much for her. As the years
passed she surrendered herself more and more to His influence, and was
ready for any duty she was called upon to do for Him, no matter how
humble or exacting it might be. It was this passion of love and
gratitude, this abandonment of self, this longing for service, that
carried her into her life-work.

Wishart Church stood in the midst of slums. Pends, or arched passages,