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MEMORIALS
OF
FRANCES RIDLEY HAWERGAL.

by HER #x.
Mº’"...º. ..º.
—4–4–
TWO Aſ UND RED A WD SAEPAAVTEEAWTA THO USAAWD.
L O N DO N :
J AM E S N IS BET & CO.,
2I BERNERS STREET,
I886.
PREFATORY NOT E.
-O-
THIS Cheap Edition contains the complete MEMORIALS
of F. R. H. Two of the Engravings, and the Facsimile
Pages, are necessarily omitted.
As the principal Addresses in the Appendix, “All
Things,” and “Church Decorations,” are issued at One
Penny each, the rest is withdrawn.
M. V. G. H.

X’-2,3-3o
P R E F A C E.
—%–
T is with a reverent hand that these “hidden leaves”
of my dear sister's life are now laid at the Master's
feet, for His acceptance and blessing.
“Leaves which grave Experience ponders,
Soundings for her pilot charts;
Leaves which God Himself is storing,
Records which we read, adoring
Him, who writes on human hearts,
Leaflets long unpaged and scattered
Time's great library receives;
When eternity shall bind them,
Golden volumes we shall find them,
God’s light falling on the leaves.”
No attempt has been made to write a Biography, but
rather to allow her to relate her own life-story—a sister's
loving touch uniting the several links. Her letters, so
kindly lent to me by many friends, have furnished abun-
dant materials for this purpose.
These pages will reveal, to some extent, her “true-
hearted, whole-hearted” loyalty in the service of God.
Often was it as unseen as the lonely watchfulness of the
sentinel on some distant outpost; although in later years
vi PRAEFA CE,
s
she seemed as one pacing the ramparts in the very pre-
sence of the King. And so—
“The joy of loyal service to the King
Shone through her days, and lit up other lives
With the new fire of faith, that ever strives,
Like a swift-kindling beacon, far to fling
The tidings of His victory, and claim
New subjects for His realm, and honour for His Name.
May Christ be magnified by this record of her life and
death ! To her, Christ was indeed “all and in all ;”
and she did but describe her own experience in the
words:
“There were strange soul depths, restless, vast, and broad,
Unfathomed as the sea ;
An infinite craving for some infinite stilling :
But now Thy perfect love is perfect filling,
Lord Jesus Christ, my Lord, my God,
Thou, Thou art enough for me !”
Yes, she was satisfied with Him, and knew what it was
to “rest in the Lord,” whilst she worked for Him. May
I not add that an equally joyous and blessed experience
may be ours; and that His grace, which was sufficient
for her, is sufficient for all who, possessing “like precious
faith,” “follow His steps.”
MARIA W. G. HAVERGAL.
CASwell BAY ROAD, THE MUMBLES,
SouTH WALEs, April 1880.
C O N T E N T S
PAGE.
CHAPTER I. (1836–1844.)
Introduction—Birth—Brothers and sisters—Name— Birthday wreaths —
Astley Rectory, (illustration)—Her father's music—New home at
Henwick—Flora's epitaph—Reading under the table—First rhyme .
CHAPTER II. (1843–1848.)
Autobiography from six years old—Wanting to be º chapters
and prayer—Golden light—Waving boughs—“The caged lark”—No
hypocrisy—Mother's last words—Death—No trance—The cry of the
motherless—Wales—Oakhampton tº ſº & º º º sº &
CHAPTER III. (1848–1852.)
The new decade—Meteor flashes—“Oh for faith”— School at last—
Showers, but no blessing — Breaking the ice — The climax — The
school sunbeam—A gleam of hope—Trusting Jesus—School again—
Illness and patience—Wales—Singing and responding at “Taffy
services” . * e g s te se gº tº & g ſº
CHAPTER IV. (1852–1855.)
School at Dusseldorf–Journey to Westphalia—Leaving school-Numero I.
— Autobiography resumed-Life in the pastor's family—The Countess
zur Lippe—Letter from Pastor Schulze-Berge—The day of confirmation
—In Worcester cathedral—“Thine for ever"—Home life—Oakhampton
enjoyment—“Welcome home to my fathér” . {. . . . tº §
CHAPTER W. (1856–1860.)
Ireland—F. R. H. and the Irish Girls—Hebrew Studies—Grateful memory
Øſ. Bible class teachings-iſ. Nearer, heaven "- Chapters learnt-
“Touching the hemºLeaving St. Nicholas —The loving teacher—
Last page in Sunday Scholar's register—Welcome to Shareshill . º
CHAPTER VI. (1861–1869.)
Oakhampton—A new power—Musical gifts—Deep borings—Subjects for
prayer—Hiller's commendation—Remarkable power of harmonizing–
Welcome to Winterdyne–Stormy petrelism—Sent empty away—
Calmer waters — Joining Young Women's Christian Associaticn—
London—“Guess my birthday treat l”—Signor Randegger—Epitome
of his first singing lesson—New home at Leamington—How poems
came—My Evelyn !—“The Two Rings”—Weary and sad—First
sight of Alpine mountains * º tº º ſº tº ſº s
CHAPTER VII. (1870–1871.)
A father's holy teaching—Peaceful death—“Yet speaketh”—“Songs of
Grace and Glory”—How harmony was learnt—Letter on tunes in “Hav-
ergal's Psalmody"—The “hush of praise”—Sympathy—The great transi-
tion—The most enjoyable trip to Switzerland—A real Alpine dawn—
The Vaudois chaplain—Vivas on the Col de la Seigne—Christmas Day
—Waiting, not working tº tº - g * * º &
3r
35
48
57
So
viii COAV7'32 W7.S.
PAG
CHAPTER VIII. (1872–1874.)
“The Right Way"—Snowdon—Evenings at Harlech—Jesus our Reality—
Switzerland once more—Ascent to the Grands Mulets—Glissade peril
and escape—Active service—Winterdyne—Bright sunshine—Full sur-
render—r John i. 7—Definitive standpoint—Chimes in the night of
“Ever, only, all for Thee”—No cheque—Songs, not sighs – How
“Golden harps,” “Tell it out,” etc., came—Wayside enjoyments s
CHAPTER IX. (1874.)
Circular letters—Sunset on the Faulhorn—Ormont Dessus—Interruptions to
poems — Other work done—“Little Pillows,” etc.—Swiss singing—
That great transfer—A musical reverie—Return to England—Bright
work and results º e ſº º º o º g º º e
CHAPTER X. (1874–1875.)
A dark enigma—Typhoid fever—“Waiting at the Golden Gates”—Coming
- back from them—Winterdyne—Relapse—Oakhampton—The ministry
of kind servants — Return to work — Letters – Gleams — Whitby—
“Reality”—The old friend's letter—Kindness of friends . . º
CHAPTER XI. (1876.)
“The Turned Lesson”—Patient wº.º. with E. C., going to
India—Upton Bishop Vicarage—The brother's organ and last singing—
The last visit to §.º. £our Toi"—Bible reading
to peasants—The Great St. Bernard–Champèry—Baroness Helga von
Gramm-Alpine cards—Illness at Pension Wengen—Return home—
{{ My King '—Pruning & ſº - e * º e & e g
CHAPTER XII. (1877.)
Letters—The mystery of pain—The Lord's graying tool–Loyal letters—
“Won't you decide to-night?"—Manhood for Christ's service—Splen-
did promises—“My silver and my gold”—Mildmay : its intercessions,
greetings, hushing t;. — A crumb from the King's table — The
Christian Progress Union. sº º &
93
II4
125
I53
18A
CHAPTER XIII. (1878.)
Sympathy with sorrowful suffering—“Just as Thou wilt.”—The mother's
last smile—Called to rest—The home nest stirred up—Clear guidance—
“Another little step"—Last days in Leamington—Nieces and nephews—
Devonshire visits—The Welsh nest—“My study”—The harp-piano—
More work—The sweep of Jehovah's pencil—Bible readings—“Take
my love”—Songs in a weary Christmas night • * - * *
CHAPTER XIV. (1879.)
New Year's sunshine—Journal of mercies—Prayer and intercessions—
Work “if the Lord will”—London—The law of the Lord a delight
—Prospering—“Loving all along”—“ Bruey" success—Irish plans—
Temperance work—The oldest friend's visit—“Can I go to India?”
—Last Y. W. C. A. address—“Little Nony”—Last letters—Costly
stones—The last “Sunday crumb" card º & o * º º
CHAPTER XV. THE LAST WEEK.
The donkey-boy—My Temperance regiment—Work on the village bank-
Sailor friends—Helga's pictures—"God's will delicious”—Good Mary
and kind nurse—“How good and kind to come”—The last Sunday-
The last hymns—Last messages—“Do speak bright words for Jesus º
º .* last song at the Golden Gate—With the King—Astley Church-
yar º º º º tº º º e º º *
APPENDIX . . . . . . . e e tº a º
º
2O7
22O
236
349
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MEMORIALS OF F. R. H.
A-
~
CHAPTER I.
(1836–1844.)
Introduction — Birth — Brothers and sisters – Name — Birthday
wreaths—Astley Rectory (illustration)—Her father's music
—New home at Henwick—Flora's epitaph—Reading under
the table—First rhyme. •
E do not often see the risings of our rivers, the
tiny spring lies hidden in some mountain home.
Even when the stream gathers strength in its downward
course, it meets with many an obstructing boulder, passes
Jhrough many an unfrequented valley, and traverses here
and there a sunless ravine. But the river deepens and
widens, and is most known, most navigable, just as it
passes away for ever from our gaze, lost in the ocean
depths.
And thus it was with the early life of that dear sister
whose course I would now attempt to trace. Those who
only knew her when her words were flowing deeply and
widely, around, little guess the dark shadows on her early
course. It is most difficult to know what to give, and
what to withhold, in these pages. In simple dependence
A
2 MEMORYAZS OF F. R. H.
º
-** **-*-----
on God's overruling guidance, a selection is now made
from what she little thought would ever be published.
Remembering one of her latest whispers, “I did so want
to glorify Him in every step of my way,” it is thought
right to unfold these life-records. May her desire be
fulfilled !
“Come nearer, Sun of Righteousness, that we,
Whose dim, short hours of day so swiftly ruz,
So overflowed with love and light may be,
So lost in glory of the nearing Sun,
That not our light, but Thine, the world may see,
New praise to Thee through our poor lives be won."
FRANCEs RIDLEY HAVERGAL was born on the 14th of
December 1836, and was the youngest child of William
Henry Havergal and Jane his wife. Her father was then
Rector of Astley, Worcestershire. The names of her
brothers and sisters, in the order of their birth, were —
1. Jane Miriam, who married Henry Crane, Esq., of
Oakhampton, near Stourport.
2. Henry East, vicar of Cople, Bedfordshire, who died
1875. Married Frances Mary, daughter of George J. A.
Walker, Esq., Norton, near Worcester.
3. Maria Vernon Graham.
4. Ellen Prestage, who married Giles Shaw, Esq., of
Celbridge Lodge, county Kildare, now of Winterdyne,
Bewdley.
5. Francis Tebbs, vicar of Upton Bishop, near Ross,
Married Isabel Susan, daughter of Colonel W. Martin.
On the 25th of January 1837, Frances was baptized in
Astley Church by the Rev. John Cawood, incumbent of
St. Ann's, Bewdley. Her godmothers were Miss Lucy
Emra, of St. George's Vicarage, near Bristol, authoress of
“Iawrence the Martyr,” “Heavenly Themes,” and other
&
tº ºrg/A 7" TATE • Å." DO 7A. A. A. PA ESAEA77." 3
poems; and Miss Elizabeth Cawood, whose clever and
attractive brightness had ever great influence over her
little goddaughter. Her godfather was the Rev. W. H.
Ridley, rector of Hambleden.
In the “Ministry of Song” we read how Frances loved
her name of Ridley, and that she bore it from one
descended from the godly and learned Bishop Ridley, of
the noble army of martyrs. * *
“But ‘what the R. doth represent’
I value and revere,
A diamond clasp it seems to be,
On golden chains, enlinking me
In loyal love to England's hope,
The Church I hold so dear.”
“Our sweet baby,” her father wrote, “grows nicely.
She was baptized last Wednesday, ‘Frances Ridley.’ All
are eager for her to be called Fanny, but I do not like it.”
However, as a child we called her Fanny, but from the
time of the publication of her first book, “The Ministry
of Song,” Frances was her usual signature, and she much
preferred her baptismal name. Her unique surname
was spelt Heavergill in 1694, afterwards Havergill, or
Havergall, but always Havergal since Orthography in
general ceased to vary. The derivation of the name is
thought to be “Aeaver-gill, the heaving or rising of the
brook or gill.”
My sister Miriam supplies the next link.
“My recollection of Frances begins with the first day
of her life; a pretty little babe even then, and by the
time she reached two years of age, with her fair com-
plexion, light curling hair, and bright expression, a prettier
child was seldom seen. At that age she spoke with perfect
° distinctness, and with greater fluency and variety of
4 A/E.1/OA&MAZS OF F. ſº. Aſ
--~~. - ...<------ - - - - r * ~ * :- - ---- - - - - ----------- *-* * *-*º
language than is usual in so young a child. She compre.
hended and enjoyed any little stories that were told her.
I remember her animated look of attention when the
Rev. J. East told her about a little Mary who loved the
Lord Jesus. We were all taught to read early, and to
repeat, by our dear mother; but as I had now left school
I undertook this charming little pupil: teaching her
reading, spelling, and a rhyme (generally out of Jane
Taylor's), for half an hour every morning, and in the
afternoon twenty or thirty stitches of patchwork, with a
very short text to repeat next morning at breakfast.
When three years old, she could read easy books, and
her brother Frank remembers how often she was found
hiding under a table with some engrossing story.”
The Rev. F. Jeffery, aſterwards vicar of Sway, was at
this time our father's curate at Astley. The following is
an extract from his letter, September 29th 1879 —
“I well recollect Astley Rectory more than forty years
ago. At that time your sister Frances was rather more
than two years old, a very fairy-like creature. Her chief
companion was then a white and tan Spaniel, such as
Landseer might have loved, and this little favourite she
called Flora or Flo. At morning prayers she always sat on
her father's knee while he read the Scriptures. It is likely
that she learned to read as a mere pastime. I well
remember her sweet infant voice singing little hymns in
imitation of her father. Her nursemaid was recom-
mended by Miss Cawood, from the Bewdley Sunday
School. The day she was four years old her little maid
brought her down after dinner to dessert, crowned with a
wreath of bay-leaves. I shall never forget the picture
She was her dear mother in miniature, especially in the
brightness of her expression and the sparkle of her eye.
A line from a classic poet was quoted exactly expressing
this. I mention this as well remembering the great
beauty of your dear mother. . . . To-day it is exactly
fourteen years since I saw the sun for the last time, but
AſO UA' | E_4 RS O.L.D. 5
it would need many more years than that, to blot out my
recollection of Astley Rectory.
“Ah ! how each dear domestic scene I knew
Charms with the magic of a moonlight view,
Its colours mellowed not impaired by time !”
Her sister Miriam continues:
“At four years old, Frances could read the Bible and
any ordinary book correctly, and had learned to write in
round hand. French and music were gradually added;
but great care was always taken not to tire her or excite
the precocity of her mind, and she never had a regular
governess.
“Mr. Jeffery has referred to her wreath of bay on her
fourth birthday, and I remember making a wreath of the
pink china roses which grew among the ivy on the rectory
on her third birthday. Alas ! the rose and the prophetic
bay reappeared among her funeral wreaths.” e
The surroundings of dear Frances' early days in our
Astley home may as well be given in the descriptive lines
of my sister Miriam, written in 1863, accompanying her
sketch of the church and rectory.*
“Behold thy birthplace, Frances ! The old house
Entwined with ivy, roses, and the vine;
3eneath the shadow of the ancient shrine
Where ministered our father twenty years.
He built the northern aisle, and gave the clock,
A musical memento of his love
For time and tune and punctuality
Fair is the garden ground, and there the flowers
Were trained with care and skill by one who now
Rests from her labours in the heavenly land.
Here life and death together meet; the tombs
* See Frontispiece,
6 MEMORALS OF F. R. H.
Stand close beside the mossy bank, where once
Sisters and brothers met in frolic play.
Around, the wooded hills in beauty rise :
Earth has not many scenes more fair than this,
And none more dear to those who called it Home 1”
Our Sunday evening hymn singing is vividly recalled,
in which little Fanny soon took part. At this time our
dear father was an invalid; music was his solace, and he
composed cathedral services, also many hundreds of
chants and tunes, and several sacred songs, the profits of
which were always devoted to various Societies, home
and foreign, and the restoration of churches.”
Beside the rich chords and tuneful song in our home,
there were wise and holy influences. Our parents' prayers
and example in searching the Scriptures, and their loving
cheery ways, activity, and punctuality, were the key.
notes of our child-life.
One of our mother's letters is given, written when
Fanny was away on her first visit (1840).
I AM so glad to hear how happy you are at Wycombe.
Try and be very obedient to dear grandmamma and your
sister Ellen, and I hope you will do all you can to please
dear grandpapa. I miss you very much, and often think
I hear you call “mamma,” or expect you are coming to
me. You remember the three little babies at Dunley.
Jane, the one that you nursed, is gone to heaven. May
my Fanny know and love Jesus Christ then she will be
sure to go to heaven whether she dies young or old.
* My father's first published musical composition was a setting of
Bishop Heber's hymn “From Greenland's icy mountains.” The
proceeds amounted to £180, and were devoted to the Church
Missionary Society. In 1836 the Gresham prize medal was awarded
to him for a cathedral service in A. In 1841 a second gold medal
was adjudged for his anthem, “Give Thanks.”
*
E/7 ERA R }^ AVO PECIA 7'E. 7
-----
Some of the seeds are come up in your garden; I love
to watch them, because you helped me to sow them.
Dear papa sends his love. Good-bye, dear Fanny.
From dear Mamma.
In 1842 the living of Astley was resigned, and Henwick
House, in the parish of Hallow, was our temporary home
till our dear father's appointment by Bishop Pepys to the
Rectory of St. Nicholas, Worcester, in 1845. The only
distinct remembrance of this time is of Frances' delight
in the gardens and long terrace walk at Henwick, with
sundry agile tree climbings. Perhaps her first grief was
the death of her little dog Flo, which was buried under
the snowy Mespilus tree in the back lawn. The sheet of
paper is preserved on which she wrote:
“Here lies little Flora. Died April 16th 1844.
Aged 7. Reverence her remains.”
Frances always took care to be in the drawing-room
while a professor was giving German lessons. Without
any one knowing it, she was listening and acquiring the
language. When discovered, she had made such progress
that Mr. Lorentz begged he might instruct her.
The treasured little book in which she wrote her
childish hymns and rhymes begins with the following
verses written at the age of seven —
SUNDAY is a pleasant day,
When we to church do go ;
For there we sing and read and pray,
And hear the sermon too.
On Sunday hear the village bells;
It seems as if they said,
Go to the church where the pastor tells
How Christ for man has bled.
8 MEA/OA’AA LS OF F. R. Af.
And if we love to pray and read
While we are in our youth,
The Lord will help us in our need
And keep us in His truth,
All her rhymes are dated, and also some simple tales,
written in a copybook for the benefit of her little niece
Miriam. From nine years old and upwards she wrote
long and amusingly descriptive letters, in perfect rhyme
and rhythm, to her brother Frank and her young friends.
There would have been a long blank now but for the
Autobiography of her inner child-life. It was written for
her sister Maria, and unsealed only a few weeks ago. As
the shadows on her morning pathway contrast with the
light that shone more and more unto the perfect day, it
is thought right to give these pages in all their truthful
simplicity.
C H A P T E R I. I.
(1843–1848.)
Autobiography from six years old—Wanting to be happy—Sunday
chapters and prayer — Golden light — Waving boughs —
“The caged lark”—No hypocrisy — Mother's last words —
Death — No trance –The cry of the motherless—Wales—
Oakhampton.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. (Written in 1859.)
HAVE often already planned and half intended to
write for my own amusement in coming years a
sort of little autobiography of those which are past; but
this idea, although my life would furnish plenty of small
adventures and incidents, I have now for several reasons
laid aside; I scarcely think it would repay the necessary
outlay of many precious hours. For more and more do
I feel what valuable capital Time is, capital which must
not be put out at merely any interest, but as far as
possible at the best and highest. In lieu, however, of a
history of my outer life, I do think that a little account
of my own inner life would be a not unprofitable invest-
ment of an evening hour. And may He who has led
me these twenty-two “years through the wilderness”
send His blessing upon me while I “remember all the
way” by which He, I trust, has brought me hitherto.
My reasons for undertaking this little task are these:
1st. I have found it so very pleasant and profitable to
look back frequently upon what have been God's deal.
ings with me, that a written retrospect is likely, with His
9
I tº A&E MORIAA.S OF F. R. H.
blessing, to prove still more useful and delightful, as
being less cursory and more definite. 2nd. I have
always avoided keeping a diary, feeling certain that it
never would or could be a strictly faithful picture of
passing-Soul life; yet I think an account of the fast, in a
bird's-eye view, would be far easier to give in a true and
uncoloured light than any memoranda of a present, which
would be tinged with the prevailing hues of the moment,
morning, noon, or twilight. Therefore, as I feel sure
that I shall not retain such a clear recollection of
each year's history when memory is more burdened,
and as I believe that even our own “experience”
is a thing given to be used and improved, it seems
almost a duty to endeavour to preserve it as clear
and ready for reference and use (at times when “His
love in times past” may be an anchor for the storm-
beset spirit) as may be. 3rd. A diary no eye but mine
should ever see. But, for one reason, one eye shall read
these pages, if it should be God's will that the volume
of my life should soon close. It is this. While I do
humbly trust, though tremblingly, that I am a child of
God, I know, and knowing bewail it, that much in my
life and conversation has not been, and is not “as be-
cometh the gospel of Christ;” and there must be some,
if not many, among my own beloved ones, who have no
direct evidence concerning me, and whom I must have
often grieved by my inconsistency. And it might be
that no opportunity of any “deathbed evidence” may
be given me, or that my remaining time may be so short
that I may never be able to show, by a closer walk with
God, that I am truly His. And as He has in His
wonderful, most wonderful, mercy given me hope, I would
not that any dear to me should sorrow for me as without
hope. So I shall give this to my dear sister Maria, to
be opened only in case of my death ; that she may
have the comfort of hoping, that even in my darkest
and most careless days I was not utterly forsaken of
that Spirit, who I pray may never cease to strive
with me.
A UTOBIOGRAA’HFY. I I
“Call to remembrance the days of old.”
“Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy
God hath led thee.”
1843–1845.
Up to the time that I was six years old I have no
remembrance of any religious ideas whatever. Even,
when taken once to see the corpse of a little boy of my
own age (four years), lying in a coffin strewn with flowers,
in dear papa's parish of Astley, I did not think about it
as otherwise than a very sad and very curious thing that
that little child should lie so still and cold. I do not
think I could ever have said any of those “pretty things,”
that little children often do, though there were sweet and
beloved and holy ones round me who must have often
tried to put good thoughts into my little mind. But
from six to eight I recall a different state of things. The
beginning of it was a sermon preached one Sunday
morning, at Hallow Church, by Mr. (now Archdeacon)
Phillpotts. Of this I even now retain a distinct im-
pression. It was to me a very terrible one, dwelling
much on hell and judgment, and what a fearful thing it
is to fall into the hands of the living God. No one ever
knew it, but this sermon haunted me, and day and night
it crossed me. I began to pray a good deal, though only
night and morning, with a sort of fidget and impatience,
almost angry at feeling so unhappy, and wanting and
expecting a new heart, and have everything put straight
and be made happy, all at once.
This sort of thing went on at intervals, not at all con-
tinuously, for often a month or two would pass without a
serious thought or anything like true prayer. At such
times I utterly abominated being “talked to,” would do
anything on earth to escape the kindly meant admonitions
of dear M , or the prayers which she would offer for
me. Any cut or bruise (and such were more the rule
than exception in those wild days of tree-climbing, wall
scaling, etc.) was instantly adduced as a reason why I
I 2 MEMORYA LS OF F. A. H.
G
could not possibly kneel down. A chapter in the Bible
was often a terrible bore. Then, after a time of this sort,
Some mere trifle, very often the influence of a calm
beautiful evening, or perhaps a “Sunday book” of some
affecting kind, would rouse me up to uncomfortableness
again. One sort of habit I got into in a steady way,
which was persevered in with more or less fervour
according to the particular fit in which I might be.
Every Sunday afternoon I went alone into a little front
room (at Henwick) over the hall, and there used to read
a chapter in the Testament, and then knelt down and
prayed for a few minutes, after which I usually felt
soothed and less naughty. Once when Marian P. was
spending a few days with me, she being my only little
visitor at Henwick, I did not like any omission, and so
took her with me, saying a few words of prayer “out of
my head” without any embarrassment at her presence,
I think I had a far more vivid sense of the beauty of
nature as a little child than I have even now ; and its
power over me was greater than any one would imagine.
I have hardly felt anything so intensely since, in the way
of a sort of unbearable enjoyment. Especially, and I
think more than anything else, the golden quiet of a
bright summer's day used to enter into me and do me
good. What only some great and rare musical enjoy-
ment is to me now, the shade of a tree under a clear blue
sky, with a sunbeam glancing through the boughs, was to
me then. But I did not feel happy in my very enjoy-
ment; I wanted more. I do not think I was eight when
I hit upon Cowpér's lines, ending
“My Father made them all !”
That was what I wanted to be able to say ; and, after
once seeing the words, I never saw a lovely scene again
without being teased by them. One spring (I think 1845)
I kept thinking of them, and a dozen times a day said to
myself “Oh, if God would but make me a Christian
before the summer comes ſ” because I longed so to enjoy
* His works as I felt they could be enjoyed. And I could
A OVZ OAFAOGA*A PA/ P. 13
not bear to think of another summer coming and going,
and finding and leaving me still “not a Christian.” I
shall know some day why my Father left me to walk thus
alone in my early childhood, why such long years of
dissatisfaction and restlessness were apportioned me,
while others fancied me a happy thoughtless child. But
He must have been teaching me, and “who teacheth like
Him?” Another soothing influence to me was the
presence of any one whom I believed to be more than com-
monly holy: not among those nearest and dearest to me at
home, how perversely I overlooked them / but any very
pious clergyman, or other manifest and shining Christian.
The Rev. John Davies, of St. Clement's, I particularly
reverenced; and his or any similar presence did me a
sort of indefinite good. I used to want such to speak a
word about good things to me, much as I hated it from
those who would willingly have given it me.
All this while I don't think any one could have given
the remotest guess at what passed in my mind, or have
given me credit for a single serious thought. I knew "
was “a naughty child,” never entertained any doubts on
the subject; in fact, I almost enjoyed my naughtiness in
a savage desperate kind of way, because I utterly de-
spaired of getting any better, except by being “made a
Christian,” which, as months passed on, leaving me
rather worse than better, was a less and less hoped for,
though more and more longed for, change. Towards the
end of these two years I think (though I do not dis-
tinctly remember) that I must have become a shade
quieter and happier, because of what is the first memory
in my next little soul era.
July 1845-Spring 1850.
We went to St. Nicholas' Rectory in 1845, and it
was in very great bitterness that I bade adieu to my
pleasant country life, and became, as I remember dear
papa calling me, “a caged lark.” This made a great
difference to me, for I do think that the quiet everyday
14 A/EMOA&M A ZS OF F. A. H.
beauty of trees and sunshine was the chief external influ.
ence upon my early childhood. Waving boughs and
golden light always touched and quieted me, and spoke to
me, and told me about God. Being a “youngest” by
so many years, and not knowing many children, I very
rarely had a companion except my little Flora, in that
large Henwick garden, where I first learned to think ;
and that may have been the reason why trees and grass
were so much to me. They were the first pleasant leaf
in God's great lesson book with me. But at St. Nicholas'
Rectory I had a little tiny room all my own, and that
was quite the next best thing; its little window was my
“country” (for a “walk” with another was never the same
thing as those lonely loiterings in the garden), and soon
the sky and the clouds were the same sort of relations
to my spirit that trees and flowers had been.
Soon after coming, a sermon by the curate on “Fear
not, little flock,” etc., struck me very much, and woke me
up again from a longer slumber to a more restless unhappi-
ness than usual. I did so want to be happy and be “a
Christian,” which term embraced everything I could
possibly think of in the way of happiness. And I didn't
at all see how I was to be, except by praying very hard;
and that I had done so often that I got quite disheartened
at its resultlessness. At this time I don't think I had
any clear ideas about believing on the Lord Jesus, and
so getting rid of the burden which had pressed so long
upon my little soul. My general notion was that I didn't
love God at all, and was very bad and wicked altogether ;
that if I went on praying very much, something would
come to me and change me all at once, and make me
like many whom I read about and a few whom I saw.
As for trying to be good, that seemed of next to no use;
it was like struggling in a quicksand, the more you
struggle the deeper you sink. To come back to the
sermon. I had never yet spoken a word to any mortal
about religion; but now I was so uneasy that, after nearly
a fortnight's hesitation, taking the emboldening opportu-
nity of being alone with the curate one evening when
o
A (WTOB/OGRAPH. P. 15
almost dark, I told him my trouble; saying especially
that I thought I was getting worse, because since I had
come to St Nicholas’ I had not cared at all for Sunday
afternoon reading and prayer. His advice did not satisfy
me. He said the excitement of moving and coming into
new scenes was the cause most likely of my feeling worse,
and that would soon go off; then I was to try and be a
good child, and pray, etc., etc. So, after that, my lips
were utterly sealed to all but God for another five years,
or rather more. Even when feeling most, I fancied I
could as soon speak Sanscrit or die, as utter a word to
a human being as to what was only between me and God.
This intense reserve must have grieved those who loved
me. Consequently, too, anything like hypocrisy was the
sin of all others which I could least understand, and
imagined the most impossible to commit. How could any
one say or seem more than they felt, when it was so
impossible to say as much as one felt
My dear mamma's illness and death (July 5th 1848)
did not make the impression on me which might have
been expected; I mean as regards my spiritual state, for
my intense sorrow, childish though it was, seems even
now, after the lapse of eleven years, a thing of which I
do not like to speak or think. A mother's death must
be childhood's greatest grief. But I am trying now to
write only of my soul's life. I did not at all expect her
departure, and shut my ears in a very hardened way to
those who tried to prepare me for it; so when it came I
was not ready, and there was nothing but bitterness in it
to me. I did not, would not, see God's hand in it, and
the stroke left me worse than it found me.
One subject often occupied my mind in these years,
which would seem unusual for a child—The Lord's
Supper. After coming to St. Nicholas', almost every
monthly sacrament made me thoughtful. I begged to
be allowed to stay in the church and see it administered
“only once,” but this apparently mere curiosity was not
gratified, so I used to go round to the vestry and listen
C
to the service through the door. One Sunday the hymn,
t 6 MEA/OA'AAA.S OF AZ, Aº’. H.
“My God, and is Thy table spread?” was sung before
'sermon; it quite upset me, and I cried violently, though
being in a corner of the pew I managed to conceal
it. I used to reckon the years to the time when the
invitation would extend to me too, not by any means
happily, for I wondered what I should ever do; I could
not stay away, but how could I dare to go? “Well, I
hope I shall be a Christian by then ſ” was my only
comfort.
sºmº-
Turning from the Autobiography, some of her mother's
words are given.
“You are my youngest little girl, and I feel more
anxious about you than the rest. I do pray for the Holy
Spirit to lead you and guide you. And remember, no-
thing but the precious blood of Christ can make you
clean and lovely in God's sight.”
Frances. “Oh, mamma, I am sure you will get better
and go to church again ſ”
“No, dear child; the church mamma is going to is the
general assembly and church of the firstborn in heaven.
How glorious to know I shall soon see my Saviour face
to face | Now go and play and sing some of your little
hymns for me; there is one verse I should like you to
sing twice over:
“And when her path is darkened
She lifts her trusting eye,
And says, “My father calls me
To mansions in the sky 1’”
Before her mother's death (when she was eleven years
old) her wish was gratified to see the Lord's Supper
administered. We remember her grave flushed face,
when kneeling at her mother's bed during the “Com-
munion of the Sick.”
* AO UAE A/4 PPP DA VS.” 17
The whole story of her child-life at this time is told in
her “Four Happy Days,” in which, under the name of
“Annie,” she reveals the bitterness of this first grief.
We can almost see her in her tiny bedroom, “kneeling
on the chair, leaning on her little arms on the window-
seat, and feeling as if she wished she had something to
lean her little heart on too. The clouds had been her
great friends since she had had no trees to sit in and
Imake up fancies about. Sometimes she watched the
clouds and wondered all sorts of things about them, and
especially wished she could reach the splendid white ones
which looked like snow mountains that could be climbed
and rested upon. But she found in a book that
they were only vapour like the others, and that there
would be nothing to rest upon and look down upon, only
dismal thick mist and rain. Poor child ! there are other
bright things besides shining clouds, which when reached
are only mist and tears. . . . She was musing over
some words which had just been spoken in her mother's
room. ‘Fanny dear, pray to God to prepare you for all
that He is preparing for you.’ Her mamma said them
very feebly and solemnly when she said good-night, and
now they seemed to sound over and over again, so that
they never should or could be forgotten. “I wonder
what He is preparing for me,’ she thought. ‘Oh, I do
hope He is preparing one of the many mansions for me !
How I wish I knew whether He is . But I don’t think
He is preparing me for it, else I should not feel naughty
so often.' But her mamma meant something sadder and
nearer, which she knew God was surely preparing day by
day for her little girl; she knew it could not be very long
before she would be singing the ‘new song’ in perfect joy,
while all her child's little songs would be hushed in great
sorrow, the greatest that a child can know. Her mainina
B
A 8 MEMOA’A.4/S OF AZ AC. H.
saw how strangely she was unprepared for all this, and
she never would stay to listen to anything her sisters said
about their dear mamma being worse.”
Only a few weeks before her own death, Frances
referred to this: “The words mamma taught me in
1848 have been a life prayer with me. This ‘preparing’
goes on ; it is as when gaining one horizon, another and
another spreads before you. So every event prepares us
for the next that is prepared for us. Mamma's words I
also remember, ‘Dear child, you have your own little
bedroom now, it ought to be a little Bethel.’ I could
not then make head or tail of what she meant, and often
wondered, till some months after, when reading in
Genesis I came to the chapter; and then I understood it.
Having that small room to myself developed me much
as a child; it was mine, and to me it was the cosiest little
nest in the world.”
We must take one more look (from the “Four Happy
Days”) at St. Nicholas' Rectory, on the 11th of July 1848.
“Annie [Frances] was standing by the window in a front
room, looking through a little space between the window
and blind. All the shops were shut up, though it was not
Sunday. She knew it would be dreadful to look out of
that window, and yet she felt she must look. She did
not cry, she only stood and shivered in the warm air.
“Very slowly and quietly a funeral passed out of the
front [Rectory] gate, and in another minute was out of
sight, turning into the church. Then she stood no
longer, but rushed away to her own little room, and
flung herself on her little bed, and cried, ‘Oh, mamma
mammal mamma l' It seemed as if there was nothing
else in her litttle heart but that one word. The strange
hope which had lasted all that week was gone. She had
found curious things in books, and one was that people
THE cry of THE MOTHER/ Ess. 19
had sometimes been supposed to be dead, and yet it was
only a trance, and they had revived and even recovered.
And so, when no one was near, she had gone again and
again into that room, and drawn the curtain aside, half
expecting to see the dear eyes unclose, and to feel the
cold cheek warm again to her kiss. But it was no trance.
The dear suffering mother was at rest, seeing Jesus face
to face. Only the smile of holy peace was left on that
lovely face, and that remained to the last, telling of life
beyond death; she had never seen the solemn beauty of
that smile before. But now all hope was gone, and she
knew that she was motherless.”
In her little book of poems she wrote:
Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard,
Neither can man's heart conceive,
The blessed things God hath prepared
For those who love Him and believe.
July 5th, 1848.
And again :
Oh I had I the wings of a dove,
Soon, soon would I be at my rest;
I would fly to the Saviour I love,
And there would I lie on His breast,
July 9th.
On a marble tablet in St. Nicholas’ Church, Worcester,
is this inscription—
JANE,
The beloved Wife of Rev. W. H. HAVERGAL, M.A.,
Rector of this Parish, and Hon. Canon of Worcester
Cathedral, **
Died in holy peace, July 5th 1848,
AGED 54 YEARS.
“I give unfo them eternal life.”
20 MEMORAAES OF F. R. F.
After this sorrowful time our dear father took us all
away to North Wales. On our return Frances often
visited her sister Miriam's home, Oakhampton, where
she is remembered as a clever amusing child, sometimes
a little wilful and troublesome from mere excess of
animal spirits, but always affectionate and grateful for
any little treat; reading a good deal of poetry, and
leaving traces of her studies in volumes found in hayloft
and manger and garden nooks.
When at St. Nicholas' Rectory, she threw herself into
the work of her society for providing warm clothing; and
her chief coadjutor (whom she calls “Maria” in “Four
Happy Days”) was the youngest daughter of Michael
Thomas Sadler, M.P.
Though her grief for her dear mother's death was very
deep, she ever tried to conceal it. Not that it was
always heavy upon her, for as she writes: “If anything
else occupied my attention I had a happy faculty of
forgetting everything else for the moment. And thus it
happened that a merry laugh or a sudden light-heeled
scamper upstairs and downstairs led others to think I
had not many sad thoughts, whereas not a minute before
my little heart was heavy and Sad.”
C H A P T E R III.
(1848–1852.)
The new decade—Meteor flashes—“Oh for faith”—School at
last — Showers, but no blessing — Breaking the ice — The
climax—The school sunbeam—A gleam of hope—Trusting
Jesus—School again—Illness and patience—Wales—Singing
and responding at “Taffy services.”
AUTOBIOGRAPHY RESUMED,
KNOW I did not love God at this time, the very
I thought of Him frightened me; but sometimes a
feeling not unlike love would make me go to sleep with
a wet pillow. It would often be thus. Going to bed
I would determine I would try to think about God, hard
as it was ; and after I lay down, as my thoughts did not
flow at all naturally heavenward, any more than water
flows upward, I forced them into a definite channel by a
half whisper. “How good it was of God to send Jesus
to die I" was my usual beginning, while I by no means
felt or believed that wonderful goodness. Nevertheless it
usually ended in my crying most heartily because I was
so bad and He was so good, and because I didn't and
couldn't love Him when He even died for sinners.
Here I ought to say that, from preservation from one
deadly error, I ought especially to be thankful to my
ever watchful Keeper. Never for one moment, even from
my earliest childhood, have I ever been tempted to think
otherwise of myself than as a great and miserable and
helpless sinner. Never have I dared to think myself “as
good as others,” for even as a little child I knew and
felt the sinfulness of my own heart. Never has the
21
22 MEMORIA LS OF F. R. H.
shadow of a hope in my own righteousness, or of any
trust in myself, crossed my mind. Yet even this I say
with the reservation that it is and has been so, as far
as my own consciousness goes, for every year shows me
more and more the utter deceitfulness of the heart :
“Who can know it !” Oh the comfort of thinking that
there is One who knows it, and can therefore cleanse
its most hidden chambers from their dark pollution.
“O God, unto whom all hearts be open,” etc., is one
of the sweetest things in our sweet Liturgy, to me; and
it is wonderful what confidence it has often given me.
So passed the five years till the spring of 1850, a time
full of many recollections which I should like to retrace
had I not determined to abide by my intention of recall-
ing only the history of what I would now dare to hope,
though for many years I doubted it, is God's own work
in me, which He, according to His promise, will perfect
in His own time.
1850 (Spring) to 1851 (February).
The bells were ringing in the new year, and not year
only but decade, when Maria awoke me and said, “It is
1850 now, Fanny l’ It was quite dark, and I lay listen-
ing to the new year's birth-song in silence. A dim
looking onward through a fresh “ten years” all the way
till 1860 came before me; I should be grown up if I
lived; I a woman, how curious it seemed ! Perhaps I
should be dead, and where P If I lived should I be a
Christian P. That was the great thing in all my anticipa-
tions of coming years; but in a solemn hour, like a new
year's midnight, it grew greater and more important than
ever. The sound of the bells died away, and all was
quiet again. I did not muse long, but fell asleep to wake
up in the first gray twilight of 1850.
Now the decade has nearly glided by (the first entire
one in my recollection); the new year's bells of 1860
will soon be sounding forth ; God has preserved my life
hitherto; and how shall I answer the great question then,
A UTOBIOGRAPHY". 23
not “shall I be’” but “am I a Christian P” May I,
trusting and believing in the Lord Jesus as I do hope
He has taught me to do, answer this great question of
my life with a humble yet confident “yes?” And, in
entering upon another ten years, may I not hope that
“to him that hath shall be given,” that He will give me
more faith, hope, and love, more knowledge of Himself,
more meetness for His presence? A men /
I don't so much remember particular incidents in the
early part of this year as general feelings and impres-
sions, which were then rather altered in character, so
much so as to form the beginning of a new division in
my heart story. This much I know, that a soberizing
thoughtful time seemed to fall on me like a mantle, and
my strivings were no longer the passionate spasmodic
meteor flashes which they had been, but something
deeper, more settled, more sorrowful. All this was
secret and only within my own breast, for not only at
this time, but all through my early life, there were but
a very few who knew me to be anything but a careless
merry girl, light-hearted in the extreme. This spring
a strange new sense of the vanity of life and earth and
everything but the one thing came over me, and when
alone I sat and mused till I often cried. I began to
look onward more, and feel that I should not be a child
much longer (I was thirteen); and then years would go
by so quickly, people said they did, they went faster even
then to me; and what would they bring P vanity and
sameness and vexation ? And life began to seem such a
little thing to me, such “a handbreadth,” and what was
there in it to care for P I couldn't expect a happier lot
than I had, and yet all I had was unsatisfactory; and
I should always be myself too, and I hated myself, so
what was to be done P
Two or three things happened (though I do not at all
remember what) which tended very strongly to confirm
these sad thoughts; death seemed around me; “passing
away” earth's motto; “vanity” life's keynote. As the
beautiful spring came on there was a mist of melancholy
24 AMEA/OA’A,4/.S OF F. R. A.
over the very flowers: they had opened; well, what
matter? they would fade again, and so would every-
thing ! I did not enjoy that spring as I had others, its
charm was gone. In the end of May I joined Ellen in
London, and we spent six weeks of gorgeous summer
weather together at Wycombe with grandpapa. What
brought it before me I don’t know, but now came a more
definite and earnest prayer for faith. Oh to believe in
Jesus, to believe that he had pardoned me ! I used to
go to bed rather early, and lie awake in the long summer
twilight till Ellen came up, praying for this precious gift.
Oh for faith ! That was my cry; but it was not given,
tº at least not as and when I asked. I read a great deal of
the Bible at this time in a “straight on” sort of way,
expecting to come to something which would set me free
and bring the great gift of faith within my grasp. How
I got it I can't in the least tell; but certainly about this
time I had a clearer idea of salvation than ever be-
fore, though I fancied myself farther than ever from its
blessedness. -
This reminds me that as a child I read a good deal
... of the Bible, Isaiah being nearly my favourite book from
the time I was ten or eleven. I never succeeded in
reading for any length of time on any regular plan,
because if I missed at all in one I got disheartened and
ennuyée, and after giving up altogether for a little while,
began something else. Once I determined, if eternal
life were in the Scriptures, find it I would, and resolved
to begin giving an hour a day to very careful and prayer.
ful reading of the New Testament.
Then came the great break in the current of my outer
life, and with it a development of the inner, August 15th
1850, to my great delight I went to school. And that
single half-year with dear Mrs. Teed, formerly of Great
Campden House, at Belmont now, was perhaps the most
important to me of any in my life. The night before I
went, Ellen, dear, gentle, heavenly sister that she was,
stood by me, brushing my hair, and taking the last
opportunity of loving counsel. She told me that I was
A C/7 OAZOGRAPH. V. 25
going to begin a new chapter in my life: stay, her words
were, “One of the great events of your life, Fanny "
and then she was silent. I was captiously disposed, and
rather wanted to avoid a serious conversation, so I
answered carelessly, for I knew by the tone of her voice
what she wanted to lead on to. But it would not do,
she went on till I was softened,—a most unusual thing
under the process of being talked to, which generally
had the most opposite effect. She spoke of God's love,
and of how pleasant and sweet a thing it was to love
Him who first loved us. I could not stand it, and for
the first time for five years I spoke out: “I can't love
God yet, Nellie (" was all I said, but I felt a great deal
II].OTC.
Next day I went. Maria took me, and we reached
Belmont quite in the evening. It was nearly prayer-
time, and Maria and I were left to have some tea alone
in the great drawing-room. We had just finished when
voices reached us, and we tried to find our way in their
direction. They came from the schoolroom, where the
girls were singing their evening hymn prior to the weekly
address of their chaplain. It sounded very sweet and
soothing, as we stood behind the door in the last glow of
sunset, and somewhat subdued the spirits and the curiosity
which were exciting me considerably. Then Miss Teed
came out and brought us in, just as Mr. Parker was
beginning his sermon. It was from some text in Samuel
which I forget; but the two leading ideas were, that we
should begin the new half-year with the Saviour who loved
us and gave Himself for us, and in a spirit of helpful love
one toward another. It was a rather long address, and I
was very tired and excited, so I know I did not listen to
it nearly all ; but this much I have retained until now,
and it was the keynote of my prayer that evening as I
knelt for the first time beside my little school bed, so
white and curtainless.
How I should like to run on with many reminiscences
of school life But I will not It was not long before
I felt that Mrs. Teed's teaching was something more than
2 #
ME MOA’AA LS OF A. R. A.F.
º:
it. Mary
common, but, till towards the end of the half-year, things
went on much as usual with me.
After the middle of the half-year there was a difference.
It was Mrs. Teed's finale to her long course of school
work, and she longed and prayed that it might indeed be
finished with joy through the outpouring of God's blessing
upon her labours. That none might leave her roof
unimpressed was her desire, and it was to a great extent
fulfilled. She prayed and spoke with us, together and
individually, with a fervour which I have never since seen
equalled, and seemed a very St. Paul in the intensity of
her yearning over us. The result is what might be
really called a revival among her young charge. There
may have been and probably was some excitement; but
that the Holy Spirit was, even then and there, sent down
into many a young heart, and that many dated from that
time their real conversion to God, and went home that
Christmas rejoicing in a newly and truly found Saviour,
I have no doubt whatever. My own two dearest friends
were among these.
But, before the full tide of all this blessing set in, I was
..luch in earnest. To begin with ; it must indeed have
been a heart of stone that could resist dear Mrs. Teed's
sweet and holy power. Besides, we had pious teachers
who often spoke on the best things to us, and had little
meetings for prayer weekly in their own rooms. And
there were many Christian girls too, easily recognised by
their general “walk and conversation,” almost by their
very countenances; these I knew “took sweet counsel
together,” and I envied them and longed to dare to share
was one of these; we were naturally a
great deal together, and I longed to be able to speak and
tell her how unhappy I often was ; but it was long before
I summoned courage. At last I did. “Mary, dites-moi,
est-ce que vous aimez Dieu ?” (We always had to speak
French.) She looked almost surprised, there was no
doubt about the matter with her. “Oui, certainement,”
she said, “je l'aime plus que je ne pourrais vous dire.”
Then I burst into tears and sobbed out, “Eh bien, c'est
A C/7 OB/OGRAPHY. 27
cela que je désire tant, et moi je ne le puis pas!” The
ice was broken, and dear Mary spoke very sweetly to me:
I did not regret my confidence this time. “Pouvez vous
ou woulez vous dire que vous étes encore un petit enfant?”
“Oh, oui, je sais que je ne suis qu'un enfant.” “Alors,
écoutez 1 Jésus disait, “Suffer the little children,” etc.
C'est chaque petit enfant qui doit venir à Lui, chaque
petit enfant qu'il appelle, qu'il veut embrasser.” She begged
me to go to Jesus and tell Him I wanted to love Him
and could not, and then He would teach me to. The
words of wise and even eminent men have since then
fallen on my ear, but few have brought the dewy refresh-
ment to my soul which the simple loving words of my
little Heaven-taught schoolfellow did. But as yet they
were only as a “very lovely song,” etc., though I loved to
listen to them, and acted upon them in darkness and
trembling. After this I had many talks with Mary, but
with no one else. Even with Diana, the goddess almost
among my school friendships, and whom I believed to be
like Mary, not a syllable could I utter on the subject;
though I longed to hear her speak to me as Mary did.
November came, and with it a marked increase of
anxiety among undecided, and earnestness among decided
ones. I remember a feeling of awe stealing over me
sometimes, at the consciousness that the “power of the Lord
was present” among us. For so indeed it was. As day
after day passed on, one after another might be observed
(even though little or nothing were said) to be going
through the great sorrow which seemed to prelude the
after-sent peace; and day after day one after another,
hitherto silent, spoke out and told what peace and joy in
believing they had found, and blessed God that they ever
came to Belmont. Religious topics became the common
subjects of conversation among the girls; for even those
as yet untouched could not but be struck with what
passed around them. In very general conversation I
occasionally joined, but more reservedly than any almost,
and never alluding to my own feelings, though I knew
what it was for my heart to feel as if it must burst. I am
28 MEMORALS OF F. R. H.
not quite sure, but I think, when Elizabeth told me
that she too had found peace, I told her enough of my
heart to establish confidence between us.
As I heard of one and another speaking in such terms
of confidence and gladness, my heart used to sink within
me, it seemed so utterly unattainable. I prayed despair-
ingly, as a drowning man cries for help who sees no help
near. I had prayed and sought so long, and yet I was
farther off than these girls, many of whom had only begun
to think of religion a few weeks before. It was so very
dark around me; I could not see Jesus in the storm nor
hear His voice. They spoke of His power and willing-
ness to save, but I could find nothing to prove that He
was willing to save me, and I wanted some special
personal evidence about it. To know, surely, that my
sins were forgiven, and to have all my doubts taken away,
was what I prayed and waited for. Every day as it
passed, while more were added to the rejoicing ones
around me, only left me more hopeless, more heartsick at
the hope deferred and often almost lost.
Yet I drank in every word (and they were many) that
I heard about Jesus and His salvation. I came to
see that it was Christ alone that could satisfy me. I
longed intensely to come to Him, I wept and prayed
day and night; but “there was no voice nor any that
answered.”
The climax came about the first or second week in
December. I shall never, never forget the evening of
Sunday, December 8th. Either the sermon at church or
* Mrs. Teed's subject, or both, had been Mark ii. 1-12.
Anyhow, I knew we had heard much of that palsied one
in his lonely helplessness, and of Christ's words of forgive-
ness, bringing joy and power and healing. Diana had
hardly seen me all day, which was an unusual thing,
(She was the sunbeam of the school, and a most parti.
cular friend of mine, and I loved her with a perfectly
idolatrous affection,-such as, until that time, I had never
given to any one. I, and most others, always supposed
that her charming disposition and general sweetness
A U7'OB/OGAEA PA. P. . 29
arose from a purer and deeper fount than could dwell
in her own nature; yet she never spoke on Sacred
things, though she seemed as faultless as a child could
be.)
For some days previously she had mixed as little as
possible with others, though apparently unintentionally,
and there had been a slight depression about her which,
though probably unnoticed by others, struck me, from
being accustomed to watch every changing light on her
face with something approaching adoration. That even-
ing as I sat nearly opposite to her at tea, I could not
help seeing—nobody could—a new and remarkable
radiance about her countenance. It seemed literally
lighted up from within, while her voice (I wonder
whether it was as musical to others as to me?) even in
the commonest necessary remarks sounded like a song
of gladness. Something was coming I was sure. Diana
was not the same. I looked at her almost with awe, as
one would on some spirit visitant. As soon as tea was
over she came round to my side of the table, sat down
by me on the form, threw her arm round me, and said:
“Oh, Fanny, dearest Fanny, the blessing has come to
me at last. Jesus has forgiven me, I know. He is my
Saviour, and I am so happy . He is such a Saviour as
I never imagined, so good, so loving ! He has not cast
me out, He said so, and He says so to you. Only come
to Him and He will receive you. Even now He loves
you though you don't know it.” Much more she said
which I do not remember, but the tone of her voice is as
clearly sounding in my ear as if she still spoke. Yes,
she had found peace, and more than peace,—overflowing,
unspeakable joy; yet, even in the first gush of its shining
waters, she thought of those around, and almost her first
impulse was to desire that her friends should possess
what had been given to her to find. Then she told me
how, while every one had supposed her to be a Christian,
she had not been so, though she had been seeking and
praying for a long time; and how, that day, the words
“Thy sins be forgiven thee” had struck her suddenly,
30 MEA/OA’IA IS OF F. R. F.
and she had thought them over all day till the time came
when she could be alone with Him who spoke them;
and then came the joyful power of believing in the love
and might of that gracious Saviour, and His death-
bought pardon.
Afterwards, she told me how new and strange many
things seemed to her. The way in which she spoke of
motives particularly impressed me. It was a new light
to me. Actions, words, and intentions had been enough
for me before, but from that evening I felt that my
, standard was raised, and that henceforth my strivings
after a holy life must include more than I had dreamt of.
A consciousness of the purity of heart required by God
came over me; and, though more disheartened than
ever, I had learnt a great lesson.
The few remaining days, till the holidays, passed much
as before, except that the last two or three unsettled me,
and made me very much indisposed for a continuance of
the earnest steady toil of the foregoing weeks; for the
first coming home from school, at the end of an unbroken
half-year, is not a little thing to a child.
From that time till the spring of the present year I
date a course of weary seeking, inconstant and variable;
often departed from, but as often renewed, and by God's
grace never entirely given up; brightened from time to
time with a gleam of hope; sweetened from time to time
with a drop, though but a drop, of the still fountain of
heavenly peace; yet, as a rule, passed in the cold mists
of doubt, and the chilly storms of temptation and inward
strife, and the dim twilight of miserable and even dis-
appointed longing.
Oh, how gladly I would have exchanged my best
things of earth, my happiest months and years, as far
as outward things were concerned, with any one's lot,
however wretched, who possessed that joy in the Lord
which I could not find. At any time I would willingly
have lost or suffered anything, might it but have brought
me to the attainment of “full assurance.” And I am
quite sure that nothing, in the way of earthly and external
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 3i
trials, could have been to me what the inner darkness
and strife and utter weariness of spirit, through the
greater part of these years, has been. Many may have
thought mine a comparatively thornless path ; but often
when the path was smoothest there were hidden thorns
within, and wounds bleeding and rankling.
February 1851.
I feel that the beginning of this year ought to be
marked as the commencement of a new life-chapter,
because it was then that, for the first time, I ever knew
what it was to have one gleam of hope or trust in Christ,
or one spark of conscious faith. Not that I would date
conversion exactly from this time; that I cannot fix.
The time I know not, the fact I would desire to “make
sure” more and more,
Having broken the ice by speaking on sacred things
with a few at Belmont, it was the less difficult to do so
again, and before long I made a confidante of Miss
Cooke (who afterwards became my loved mother). I
think it must have been February when she was visiting
at Oakhampton at the same time with me, and had
several conversations with me, each of which made me
more earnest and hopeful. At last, one evening (I
remember it was twilight), I sat on the drawing-room
sofa alone with her, and told her again how I longed to
know that I was forgiven. She asked me a question
which led to the hearty answer that I was sure I desired
it above everything on earth, that even my precious papa
was nothing in comparison, L-brothers and sisters, and all
I loved, I could lose everything were it but to attain
this. She paused, and then said slowly: “Then, Fanny,
I think, I am sure, it will not be very long before your
desire is granted, your hope fulfilled.” After a few more
words she said: “Why cannot you trust yourself to your
Saviour at once P Supposing that now, at this moment,
Christ were to come in the clouds of heaven, and take
up His redeemed, could you not trust Him P Would not
32 MEMORAA LS OF F. P. F.
—-
His call, His promise, be enough for you ? Could you
not commit your soul to Him, to your Saviour, Jesus P”
Then came a flash of hope across me, which made me
feel literally breathless. I remember how my heart beat,
“I could, Surely,” was my response; and I left her
suddenly and ran away up stairs to think it out. I flung
myself on my knees in my room, and strove to realize
the sudden hope. I was very happy at last. I could
commit my soul to Jesus, I did not, and need not, fear
His coming, I could trust Him with my all for eternity.
It was so utterly new to have any bright thoughts about
religion that I could hardly believe it could be so, that I
had really gained such a step. Then and there, I
committed my soul to the Saviour, I dº not mean to say
without any trembling or fear, but I did—and earth and
heaven seemed bright ſrom that moment—I did trust the
Zord Jesus.
For the next few days my happiness continued. Over
and over again, I renewed that giving up my soul to the
Saviour which had made entrance for the joy. For the first
time my Bible was sweet to me, and the first passage
which I distinctly remember reading, in a new and glad
light, was the fourteenth and following chapters of St.
John's Gospel. We went to Bewdley in the large
carriage, and I rode outside, so had no conversation to
disturb me. In coming home I took out a little
Testament from my pocket, and read those beautiful
chapters, feeling how wondrously loving and tender they
were, and that now I too might share in their beauty and
comfort.
We must again leave the Autobiography, to supply
some needed links. -
In July 1851, our father married Caroline Ann,
daughter of John Cooke, Esq., of Gloucester. One of
Frances' poetical letters lovingly describes her satis-
faction at this event.
Her great desire to go to school was again gratified,
SCHOOZ, AGAIAW. 33
*-
and on the 5th of August 1851, she went to Powick
Court, near Worcester. Being one of the first arrivals,
Frances was invited to tea in the drawing-room, and
exceedingly astonished Miss Haynes by throwing her
arms around her, exclaiming, “I am so delighted to
come to school l’ Towards December, however, when
enjoying her studies, the intensity of her application was
checked by severe erysipelas in her face and head. She
was soon removed home, and both school and home
studies were prohibited by medical order. I well
remember her patience even then, when almost blind,
and passing many weeks of precaution, wearisome to her
naturally active mind and body. She was so extremely
agile in every movement, a very fairy with her golden curls
and light step, her dear father, calling her his “Little
Quicksilver,” that to “lie still” was no light trial.
Extracts from letters to Elizabeth Clay, her schoolfellow
and life-long correspondent, will here and elsewhere
supply an otherwise lost link; they extend over a period
of twenty-eight years, and are those referred to in future
pages as letters “to E. C.”
COLWYN, NORTH WALEs, August 1852.
We came here on the 2nd. The change is doing us
all good, and we think dear papa's eyes are a little better.
Colwyn suits me much better than Llandudno, and I am
as well as possible. We find pretty walks ad infinitum,
The donkey-girl teaches me Welsh. I think I learn it
very fast, and I have a Welsh Testament and Prayer
Book. At what Mary calls the “Taffy service” I can
sing and chant and respond as fully as the natives
themselves. tº º
Now for a little quiet bit, to tell you how I am getting
on. I wish I were not so impatient as I am, at hearing
the (to me) dreadful news that I must on no account go
to school again till after Christmas, and perhaps not at
Ç
34 MEMORIA LS OF F. R. H.
all ! Oh, I am so disappointed 1 I cannot bear to be
ignorant and behind others in learning, so this check is
just what I most needed. Still, I am sure it will be all
right; and if I receive good things at the hand of such a
Father, shall I murmur at such a drawback, which is only
to teach me a lesson I must learn after all. # tº
How bright everything seems with you ! I fear I shall
never have such joy, still I do not give up seeking; but
there seem so many things in the way. I have been
thinking a great deal about my confirmation, though it
will not be for two years. It seems such a solemn vow.
I fear I should never have strength to keep it; but it is
one of my most constant prayers that, if I am spared to
be confirmed, I may never act as if I had not been.
C H A P T E R IV.
(1852–1855.).
School at Düsseldorf–Journey to Westphalia — Leaving school
— Numero I.—Autobiography resumed—Life in the pastor's
family—The Countess zur Lippe—Letter from Pastor Schulze-
Berge—The day of confirmation—In Worcester Cathedral—
“Thine for ever” – Home life—Oakhampton enjoyment—
“Welcome home to my father.”
N November she accompanied her parents to
Germany.
(To E. C.)
GRAFRATH, Movember 1852.
. . . We arrived here, that papa might consult the
great oculist, Dr. De Leuw. The Hofrath is very good
to his poor patients, and attends to them most carefully,
and never charges them anything; the village is full of
them. The country round Gräfrath must be pretty in
summer, and I have found some nice walks. The
master of our hotel has a partiality for cats and dogs,
and, as they follow him up to bed every night, the gentle
patter of fifty-two feet is extremely amusing.
The Hofrath says papa has incipient cataract, which
he hopes to be able to disperse. As we need remain
here only three weeks, we shall winter in Düsseldorf. I
will tell you about my school there, to which I am long-
ing to return. The “Louisenschule” is so called from
the Queen of Prussia. There are no private schools here,
and all the young ladies seem to attend this school,
which numbers one hundred and ten scholars. .
h5
36 Aff ºf MOA WA LS OF F. R. H.
(To E. C.)
KöNIGSwiNTER, May 13, 1853.
ºn tº Having had a month's holiday here, l am
going back to the Louisenschule. Fraulein Quincke is
a very excellent schoolmistress, and the masters are un-
doubtedly very good. My music master is extremely
particular. I find some harmonic scales by Mendelssohn
good practice, but all my pretty English splashy pieces
are interdicted. I have joined the drawing class and am
so fond of it. The school is under the direction of
that good man, Pastor Krafft, so altogether papa has
decided to let me have my way and return to school,
while he and mamma travel about. I can chatter
pretty fast in German, and am so well in with all
their lesson plans, that I should be sorry not to
return. I had an excellent testimony at the Easter
examination.
Papa has taken us an excursion into Westphalia,
partly in the hope of finding some interesting cousins
there, inasmuch as Dr. De Leuw and others assure us
our name is Westphalian. But so far we have not suc-
ceeded. We were delighted with Münster, the capital, a
curious old German town. The market place is sur-
rounded with beautiful arcades of massive stone (instead
of wood as at Chester), the light figurate pillars and
open stonework are extremely elegant. While mamma
rested at the hotel, papa took me to the cathedral.
The bells were chiming confusedly. It was a lovely
evening after sunset. We went in, and I never saw any-
thing so enchanting. The light, soft and faint, streamed
in through the western window, casting upon the pave-
ment, beneath, the shadows of the marble pillars which
supported the organ, in a peculiar way. Scattered about
were a few solitary worshippers, some before a cross or
image, and some with books and tapers. We listened to
what seemed to be the sound of very sweet chanting in
the choir, but on going nearer it had ceased, and was
echoing in another part. It was, in fact, the sound of
#
º
ū)
*
z;
MUWS7 ER CA 7"H/EZ) R.A. L. 37
the bells, their extremely beautiful tones floating softly
through the long aisles of the cathedral. Altogether I
cannot describe the impressions made upon one, but I
can well imagine how the worshippers, kneeling about the
Cathedral, might mistake the quiet soothing feeling,
which such a scene easily induces, for holy devotion.
Popery knows well how to lull and deceive, knows well
how to entrap the senses and feelings; and nothing can
be better suited to the natural heart than such a religion.
Next morning a confirmation was held in one of the
churches we happened to visit, and there, for the first
time, I saw the elevation of the host. Have you ever
seen it P You should for once. It is so saddening, so
dreadful, at the tinkling of a bell to see a whole congre-
gation kneel and worship a wafer Afterwards there was
a procession round the church twenty times, with the
host, acolytes, and incense, which same incense gives
everything the most heathenish look; and, while banners
and crosses and pictures of Saints passed round, a
litany to the saints was chanted, with “Ora pro nobis”
coming over and over again.
We have made other excursions, etc. How much
pleasure I have had, all I wish and all I want; but am I
having my good things here? I wish I knew which
Master I am serving. Should I let go my hold on
Christ so often and so readily, if mine were a true hold
on Him? I began so well at school, and thought that
earthly learning would not for this time tempt me to
forget heavenly things; but day after day I grew more
eager for my lessons, and less earnest in seeking Jesus.
e . It is pleasant to get good news from England.
I am so proud and pleased about my brother Frank.
He was ordained at Christmas, and accepted a curacy
at Hereford with good Mr. Hanbury. Six months
afterwards he was appointed to a minor canonry
at Hereford Cathedral ; so he is the youngest Minor
Canon ever elected in England. My dear brother
Henry has another little daughter; how I love my
brothers
38 AMEMORYAZS OF F. R. H.
Č.
:*
'r
(To E. C.)
QBERCASSEL, September 17, 1853.
tº . I have left school for ever I suppose, and
came here from Düsseldorf. What a suffocating feeling
it is, leaving school for ever—a period, an era, completely
passed and left behind One feels that childhood is
over now, and a sense of tenfold increased respon-
sibility and independence, so to speak, is a weight
upon the spirit. The strings seemed loosed which have
hitherto bound and yet protected one, – a child's
obedience and diligence. One's future education and
formation of character, whether for good or evil, depends
now upon oneself; indeed in a measure one's whole life,
one's happiness or misery through the whole pilgrimage,
must be very, very greatly influenced by, and dependent
on, that important time, the first year after leaving school.
Many a power of mind must be exercised which, as yet,
has had little opportunity to try its flight; judgment
and discretion in a thousand things are needful; one
must think and act far more for oneself; self-denial
must be learnt; oh so much has to be done ! As a child,
the education of the mind was more in other hands, but
now the education of mind and heart is confided to one's
own care, and there will be an account to give of how
this has been performed. One's spirit is a precious
diamond; the rougher cutting work has been done by
other hands, now one must undertake its further beautify-
ing oneself, the polishing and grinding needs care and
diligence and attention, and if neglected how shall we
find an excuse with the great Master Jeweller, who had
given the costly stone into our care? Now a different
place in life, in society, and in one's own family must be
occupied; more is expected from one, many a little burden
from which the child is exempt must now be taken up
voluntarily. Then the past years, as memory brings the
long panorama slowly, one picture after another, before
one's view, how spotted, how defiled are even the fairest
of these scenes; every year having brought new guilt to
A UTOBIOGRAPHY RESUMED, 39
be mourned over ! But thankfulness must not be for-
gotten amid the whirl of conflicting feelings and
thoughts; not drops but rich full measure of happiness
filled my cup, at least through the greater part of this
time ; and many blessings, which till now I have scarcely
been aware of, ought to make me very grateful to Him,
who does indeed let His sun shine on the most unthank-
ful and evil. You experienced all this a year ago, and so
will understand it. is tº
You will like to know the result of my last examina-
tion. Only fancy, when the testimonies were given out
at the Louisenschule, amidst heart beating and cheek
flushing (especially mine), “Frances Havergal, Mumero
Fins /* broke the still silence of the awed assemblage.
You understand German enough to know that eins
means one. Proud I was, partly on account of being a
daughter of Britain. I did not go to sleep till nearly
midnight, for pure delight and satisfaction. I can’t be
satisfied without telling my friend the whole of the
history. In the Louisenschule, when a girl has not
learnt everything (as you know I did not), she receives
merely her testimony but no number. This half-year,
however, it seems that all the masters, in council assem-
bled, were so very pleased with the Engländerin's
(English girl's) papers and conduct, that they agreed to
break their rule for once, and honour me with AWumero
I., a thing which they had never done before I
AUTOBIOGRAPHY RESUMED.
The year 1853 was unique in some things. I was at
school at Düsseldorf part of it; and stood alone (as far
as I know) among the IIo girls. I do not think there
was one besides myself who cared for religion. This
was very bracing. I felt I must try to walk worthy of my
calling, for Christ's sake; and it brought a new and very
strong desire to bear witness for my Master, to adorn His
doctrine, and to win others for Him. It made me more
watchful and earnest than perhaps ever before, for I knew
40 AMAEMORALS OF F. R. H.
.
*
that any slip, in word or deed, would bring discredit on
my profession. There was very much enmity to any
profession, and I came in for more unkindness than
would have been possible in an average English school,
where I believe the tone is infinitely higher in every way
and the supervision far more strict. Results were: as
to my schoolfellows mone, I do not know that I did any
good among them ; though, towards the end of the time.
several were certainly disarmed, and left off the small
persecutions in which they had delighted, and were even
affectionate to me. As to teachers, I had the reward
of leaving with the best zeugniss in the whole school,
and with the highest praise and regret from every one.
As to myself, it was a sort of nailing my colours to the
mast. I had taken a higher standard than ever before,
and had come out more boldly and decidedly on the
Lord's side than I might have done for years under
ordinary circumstances. Yet the tide ebbed again before
many months had passed, and I remember longing to be
able to say, “O God, my heart is fixed,”—in bitter mourn-
ing over its weakness and wavering.
(Zeffer to E. C.)
OBERCASSEL, 1853.
You will want to know, dear Elizabeth, what brings
me here. Dear papa's eyes have been lately quite at a
standstill as to improvement. He is now with mamma
at Heidelberg, leaving me under the care of a good
pastor and his wife. Obercassel is a pleasant village
on the Rhine. We see the Drachenfels, with a peep
into a narrow rock-shut-in valley, through which the
Rhine flows from Coblenz. That you may glance into my
room, I send herewith a Raphaelistic sketch thereof
Busts of Goethe and Schiller, shelves and table covered
with German and French books, etc., etc. It will soon
be dusk, and then I go down and take my place by
the Pastor Schulze-Berge, who will read aloud, while
A 7TER 7"O Z. C. 41
the pleasant frau pastorin and Lottchen work or knit.
Conversational interruption, serious or amusing, will take
their turn ; and Goethe, whose life is the subject, will be
criticised in every light. Now, is not this very pleasant?
I like my quarters amazingly, and am very happy. I
get up at five o'clock, breakfast at seven ; then I study
for four hours. Of course my books are nearly all
German, and I write abstracts ; I also give one hour to
French literature. How I do enjoy myself when I get
to the German poets and Universal History, which I
dive into with avidity. If anything strikes me, I can
always refer to the good pastor. . . . . . I have
opportunities here of seeing a little of German high life.
Close by is the “court” of the Count zur Lippe, a family
worthy of their rank and title. They live very simply,
because they give more than half their income away.
The dowager countess is a perfect pattern of a Christian
noble lady, also her gentle suffering daughter, Mathilde.
The count and his wife are now travelling in Italy.
Then there is an adopted daughter, Fraulein von Clondt,
whom I like very much. To her I go now regularly
from 9 to Io a.m., to read some German author, which
is very nice for me, and very kind of her. Besides that,
I am constantly invited there to tea, or for some excur-
sions, so that I see many of the German aristocracy who
are often there. One of the countess's daughters is a
princess; I should like her to come while I am here, as
I have never spoken to a princess in my life I am
often on the Rhine, and I always row a little, it's such
fun . . . The German language is very easy to me,
for except on Sundays, which I spend with the English
clergyman of Düsseldorf, I never hear or speak English.
It is most absurd now when I begin to speak English ;
I cannot get to think in it, and keep translating German
expressions which seem so much more natural to me to
use. I must go to Düsseldorf to visit Fraulein Quincke,
whose especially beloved pupil I was. One of her
friends, Herr Niessen, an artist, was to paint a portrait of
me for her ; but he was ill, and could not do it till the
42 MAEMORYA/S OF F. R. E. .
last day, and so he only sketched one.” Not many
weeks more till I see you—hurrah!
(Pastor Schulze-Berge to M. V. G. H.)
September 24, 1879.
It is a joy to myself to give you some information
about your beloved sister Frances' progress in those
studies in which I had the privilege of being her
instructor. I had the greatest esteem for her while
she was in our house, which only deepened each time
I saw her again or heard of her work. She was
committed to my care for her studies in 1853, at
Obercassel. I instructed her in German composition,
literature, and history; I learned to appreciate her
rich talents and mental powers, so that the lessons
were more pleasure than work. She showed from the
first such application, such rare talent, such depth of
comprehension, that I can only speak of her progress
as extraordinary. She acquired such a knowledge of
our most celebrated authors in a short time as even
German ladies attain only after much longer study.
They were precious moments when I unfolded to her
the character of one of our noblest poets and thinkers,
and let her have a glimpse into the splendour of his
works. Stirred to the depths of her soul, she burst out
enthusiastically, “Oh, what mental giants, what gifted
men, these Germans are l’” What imprinted the stamp
of nobility upon her whole being, and influenced all
her opinions, was her true piety, and the deep reverence
she had for her Lord and Saviour, whose example
penetrated her young life through and through.
Seldom have I been more touched than by the
* This fact about the artist’s sketch led to recent search for it.
After many failures, Messrs. Elliott and Fry traced it by some artist
friends. The portrait was first heard of at Cologne, then at Bonn,
and finally found in Fraulein Quincke's possession there, and sent
to London.
V
cowr/RMATIOw Rzcord, 43
news of her early “going home,” but she is with Him
to whom her soul belonged, her Lord. With the
united remembrance of Adelheid (her goddaughter)
and all my family,
Yours very sincerely,
PASTOR SCHULZE-BERGE,
In December 1853, Fanny returned with her parents
to England. Passing over many months, we come to
the solemn and long anticipated time of her confirmation
in Worcester Cathedral, by Dr. Henry Pepys, bishop of
Worcester.
[FROM HER SEALED PAPERS.] .
July 17, 1854.
Now, on the evening of my confirmation day, I
will look back upon it, and briefly endeavour to write
some little record of it, for my own interest and
profit in coming years.
Satan has been busy with me all this day. I rose
early ; he then tried to persuade me to put off, little
by little, my reading of the Bible and prayer, and to
some extent succeeded in making me do other minor
things first, and in preoccupying my mind. At length
I knelt. I looked back on all my past life, and tried
to thank God for all; but the praise was not so fer-
vent as it should have been, nor the prayer so earnest,
for a blessing not only on this day but on my future
life, and my soul was grieved at this coldness. But,
ere I rose, my heart did seem a little warmer and Jesus
a little nearer. tº
In the procession to Worcester Cathedral Ellen
Wakeman was my companion. On reaching our seat
very near the rails, I sunk on my knees, and for the
first time to-day the thought of “whose I am” burst
upon me, and I prayed “my God, oh, my own
Father, Thou blessed Jesus my own Saviour, Thou
Holy Spirit my own Comforter,” and I stopped. It
44 MEMORYALS OF F. R. H.
Scarcely seemed right for me to use the language of
such strong assurance as this, but yet I did not retract.
The Litany only was chanted; and, though my thoughts
would fain have flown with each petition heavenward,
yet every little thing seemed trebly a distraction, and the
chanting was too often the subject of my thoughts. My
heart beat very fast, and my breath almost seemed to
stop, while the solemn question was being put by the
bishop. Never I think did I feel my own weakness
and utter helplessness so much. I hardly dared answer;
but “the Lord is my strength” was graciously suggested
to me, and then the words quickly came from (I trust)
my very heart: “Lord, I cannot without Thee, but oh,
with Thy Almighty help, I Do.”
I believe that the solemnity of what had just been ut-
tered, with its exceeding comprehensiveness, was realized
by me as far as my mind could grasp it. I thought a
good deal of the words, “Now unto Him that is able to
keep you from falling ;” and that was my chief comfort.
We were the first to go up, and I was the fourth or fifth
on whom the bishop laid his hands. At first, the thought
came as to who was kneeling next to me, but then the
next moment I felt alone, unconscious of my fellow can-
didates, of the many eyes fixed upon us, and the many
thoughts of and prayers for me, alone with God and
His chief minister. My feelings when his hands were
placed on my head (and there was solemnity and earnest-
ness in the very touch and manner) I cannot describe,
they were too confused ; but when the words “Defend,
O Lord, this Thy child with Thy heavenly grace, that
she may continue Thine for ever, and daily increase in
Thy Holy Spirit more and more, until she come unto Thy
everlasting kingdom,” were solemnly pronounced, if ever
my heart followed a prayer it did then, if ever it thrilled
with earnest longing not unmixed with joy, it did at
the words “Thine for ever.” But, as if in no feeling I
might or could rest satisfied, there was still a longing,
“Oh that I desired this yet more earnestly, that I be-
lieved it yet more fully.” We returned to our seats, and
~J
wº
** 77AAWA FOR E VER." 45
for some time I wept, why I hardly know; it was not grief,
nor anxiety, nor exactly joy. About an hour and a
quarter elapsed before all the candidates had been up to
the rails; part of the time being spent in meditation on
the double transaction which was now sealed, and in
thinking that I was now more than ever His ; but I still
rather sadly wished that I could feel more. Many portions
of Scripture passed through my mind, particularly part
of Romans viii. . . Each time that the “Amen” was
chanted in a more distant part of the cathedral, after the
“Defend” had been pronounced, it seemed as though a
choir of angels had come down to witness, and pour out
from their pure spirits a deep and felt “Amen.” -
The bishop pronounced the closing blessing so very
impressively that it was like soothing balm to me, and
the thought came, “Why should I doubt that my soul will
indeed receive the blessing which God's minister is thus
giving P why did God appoint him thus to bless if it were
to be a mere idle form P May not His blessing accompany
them, and . , ,
The paper was not finished, nor can any account of
her first communion be found. In her manuscript book
of poems she wrote:
“THINE FOR EVER.”
OH ! “Thine for ever,” what a blessed thing
To be for ever His who died for me !
My Saviour, all my life Thy praise I'll sing,
Nor cease my song throughout eternity.
An the Cathedral, /uly 17, 1854.
She always kept the anniversary of her confirmation
day. When at Celbridge (1856), her juvenile instructor
in Hebrew (John H. Shaw) remembers on one of these
occasions missing her at their hour for study, and that
she spent most of the day in holy retirement. So lately
as 1876 and 1877, she seems to have renewed her confir-
mation vow in the following verses:—
46 MEMORALS OF F. R. H.
A Coven ANT.
Now, Lord, I give myself to Thee,
I would be wholly Thine;
As Thou hast given Thyself to me,
And Thou art wholly mine;
Oh take me, seal me as Thine own,
Thine altogether—Thine alone. --
July (1876.)
ONLY for Jesus ! Lord, keep it for ever,
Sealed on the heart and engraved on the life
Pulse of all gladness, and nerve of endeavour,
Secret of rest, and the strength of our strife
July (1877.)
We now return to her home life after her confirmation
in 1854.
She carefully kept up all her studies, her abstracts in
German, French, and English showing the rapidity and
variety of her reading. With her father's help she
acquired sufficient knowledge of Greek to enjoy studying
the New Testament. Her manuscript book contains
twenty-five original German and English poems, beside
poetical enigmas and charades, which she contributed to
various pocket-books under the name of “Sabrina” and
“Zoide,” and for which she often obtained prizes, the
money thus gained being sent to the Church Missionary
Society.
OAKHAMPTON, May 14, 1855.
Here I am in the height of enjoyment with my brother
Frank. Little Miriam's absence is a drawback. My
Evelyn is ill; but she is very gentle and patient, indeed
I never saw a sick child so utterly without fretfulness.
i. is lovely, a perfect Sunbeam, with golden wavy
3.11ſ. g
How rife everything in spring seems with beautiful
emblems I don't mean such as are already down in
" wer.comre Howet" 4?
sº *-*- ---º-º-----------
poetry books, but those wildly, lovely, intangible similes
which flit across the mind, like the shadows of a flying
bird
Our dear father had again been to Gräfrath in 1855,
and returned with his eyesight much better. Frances
writes:
Is not this glorious P Such sudden improvement we
hardly dared to hope for. We shall see papa in the
reading desk on Sunday, where he has not been for nearly
four years l Oh, we are so happy. Papa and mamma
came home on Saturday. We welcomed them in style.
I made a triumphal arch over the hall-door with flowers
and greenery, over the study door papa's crest in flowers,
and over the dining-room a banner with the words in
rosebuds and leaves, “Welcome Home.” Oh it was so
nice that dear papa was able to see it ; directly he came
in he knelt down with us all, and offered such beautiful
prayer, or rather praise !
C H A P T E R V.
(1856–1860.)
Ireland — F. R. H. and the Irish girls — Hebrew studies —
Grateful memory of Bible class teachings—“Nearer heaven l’”
— Chapters learnt — “Touching the hem” — Leaving St.
Nicholas—The loving teacher—Last page in Sunday Scholar's
Register—Welcome to Shareshill.
N Irish school-girl pens the following recollections of
meeting F. R. H. on her first visit to Celbridge
Lodge, Ireland, May 1856:
Five o'clock p.m. was the hour appointed for the
elder girls from the school to arrive at the Lodge. Mrs.
Shaw met us at the hall door with gentle words to each,
and then brought us into the drawing-room, we being in
a great state of delight at the thought of seeing “The little
English lady.” In a few seconds Miss Frances, carol-
ling like a bird, flashed into the room | Flashed 1 yes, I
say the word advisedly, flashed in like a burst of sunshine,
like a hillside breeze, and stood before us, her fair sunny
curls falling round her shoulders, her bright eyes dancing,
and her fresh sweet voice ringing through the room. I
shall never forget that afternoon, never ! I sat perfectly
spellbound as she sang chant and hymn with marvellous
sweetness, and then played two or three pieces of
Handel, which thrilled me through and through. She
finished with singing her father's tune (Hobah) to “The
Church of our fathers.” She shook hands with each, and
said with a merry laugh: “The next time I come to
Ireland I think we must get up a little singing class, and
then you know you must all sing with me !”
48
VZSZ 7° 7'O IAEA2ZAAWD. 49
As we walked home down the shady avenue one and
another said: “Oh, isn't she lovely? and doesn't she
sing like a born angel !” “I love her, I do; and I’d
follow her every step of the way back to England if I
could.” “Oh, she's a real Colleen Bawn l’
Another of the class felt, all the time, that there must
be the music of God's own love in that fair singer's
heart, and that so there was joy in her face, joy in her
words, joy in her ways. And the Secret cry went up from
that young Irish heart: “Lord, teach me, even me, to
know and love Thee too.”
On her next visit to Ireland her singing class was
formed. An invalid remembers at this time her “tender
lovingkindness in lonely days of sorrow and suffering.
It was Miss Frances who first taught me Greek, which was
such an interest and help to me, and afterwards she gave
me Hebrew lessons too. Truly can I say, ‘I thank my
God on every remembrance of thee I’”
Frances much enjoyed the study of Hebrew this
summer with J. H. S. During a pleasant expedition
through county Wicklow one of our party was a learned
Hebrew scholar. It rather discomfited our good brother-
in-law that Frances' attention seemed deeper in in-
vestigating his knowledge of Hebrew psalms and gram-
mar than in the surrounding geography of glens and
passes. One other incident of her Irish visits was her
attendance at a Bible class, conducted by the Rev. M. J.
Bickerstaff (now vicar of Cookley). Side by side with
the tiniest children Frances took her seat, and long after-
wards referred to the pleasure and benefit of his
instructions.
• September 20, 1869.
DEAR MR. BICKERSTAFF,-
. . . I am So Sorry not to be well enough to
D
ge MEMORIA LS OF F. R. H.
hear you preach this morning. Your sermons and
Bible classes in 1865 were more real help to me than
any I ever heard. I always look gratefully back to
them as having done more to open my eyes to the
“wondrous things” in God's word than any other human
instrumentality.
Yours affectionately and gratefully.
The year 1858 had not much incident. She mentions
her pleasure in listening to her father's Lent lectures on
the Queen of Sheba, and tells her friend E : “the
lectures are beautiful; you could not form an idea of
their fulness and freshness without hearing them. These
typical sermons are what papa specially excels in 1" She
writes of
—gleams and glimpses, but oh to be filled with joy
and the Holy Ghost Oh, why cannot I trust him fully?
How very sweet those words are, “I write unto you, little
children, because your sins are forgiven you for His
name's sake.” They have comforted me, for I am but
a little child, only a babe in the spiritual life, and this
seems so tenderly addressed to such. But oh that I
could grow up in Him | Sometimes I have felt almost
happy in trying to realise what you write to me about,
and at times I have gone on praying and pouring out all
to Him, till time seemed forgotten, and I could scarcely
rise and come back to earthly things. Once I had a
strange thrill of joy at a passing, and may-be foolish,
thought. You know how suffering I have been. Well,
one evening, passing the looking-glass in the twilight, I
caught sight of myself rather flushed, and I thought it
looked like the hectic spot that foretells mortal disease.
I know I am not in the remotest degree consumptive,
but for an instant I thought it might be so. Oh the
extraordinary thrill of delight the idea brought, that
possibly I might be nearer heaven than I thought !
It was almost ecstatic gladness; and then a chill of
. Nº.
AOA/E LIFE. 51
disappointment came when my common sense told me it
could not be so But in whatever way or time death
comes to either of us, may our lamps be trimmed and
burning. . . .
From this time her letters tell of
“The tremulous gleams of early days,
The first faint thrills of love and praise,
Vibrating fitfully.”
She seems to have read and learned the Scriptures
systematically with her friend E. C. In this I had joined
them, and remember that in our country walks Frances
repeated alternate verses with me. She knew the whole
of the Gospels, Epistles, Revelation, the Psalms, and
Isaiah, and the Minor Prophets she learned in later years.
[ At this time she was taking the titles of Christ for her
daily searchings and remarks, “Yesterday I took Christ
our Advocate, it is one of the sweet titles. Alpha and
Omega will be a very suitable one for Sunday. I like to
think about the Lord Jesus as He is in Himself, not only
in relation to myself.”
T Incidental traces of holy walking as well as holy writ.
ing come out naturally; e.g., “I said something yester.
day, dear Elizabeth, which I much regret, though thought-
lessly and not intentionally uttered. I thought, after, it
seemed an imputation upon ; the faintest impression
of which I would remove at oncefrom your mind. Perhaps
you did not notice it; but I did, and grieved that I said
it.” Her home life was beautiful, though often only One
knew the self-restraint and the self-denial of actions, trivial
in themselves, but springing from the desire to please God.
I remember her refusing to go with me for a pleasant
visit to Oakhampton, because she would not leave our
dear mother alone, adding “if I can only go errands it
will be of some use.”
52 A/EMORALS OF F. R. H.
(To E. C.)
August.
As time passes on, dear Elizabeth, so does my hope
strengthen that I really took a step onward when with
you in the spring. It was then that (like the woman in
the press) I was enabled to come and touch the hem of
His garment. It was then that the truth made me free.
I have lost that weary bondage of doubt, and almost
despair, which chained me for so many years. I have
the same sins and temptations as before, and I do not
strive against them more than before, and it is often
just as hard work. But, whereas I could not see why I
should be saved, I now cannot see why I should not
be saved if Christ died for all. On that word I take my
stand and rest there. I still wait for the hour when I
believe He will reveal Himself to me more directly ; but
it is the quiet waiting of present trust, not the restless
waiting of anxiety and danger. His death is really my
confidence, and I have tasted the sweetness of one new
thing, praise /
In 1860 our father resigned the living of St. Nicholas,
but not before the bishop had kindly promised that his
successor should be his much esteemed curate and friend,
the Rev. Charles Bullock.
Many parting gifts from the parishioners flowed in,
both for the Rector and his wife, whose organizing
powers and activity had much endeared her to the parish.
A most troublesome class of adult boys was quite a
trophy of what loving words and gentle rule could effect,
and their parting address and present to her came with
more costly gifts. One of her class became a Scripture
reader, another an ordained minister of our Church, and
all brought forth good fruit in after years.
Frances writes to E. C. : -
What could be more conducive to spiritual improve-
** A GA VE MY LIFE FOR 7"HEE.” 53
Inent than what God has sent me lately, besides innu-
merable mercies, extra gratifications in many ways; all
these beautiful testimonials to my precious papa, and
lovely ones to dear mamma, and my own undeserved
share in them, and my success in writing (for I have just
received a formal application from the Editor of Good
Words for poetical contributions).” On the other hand,
I have just enough bodily infirmity to keep me mindful
and humble. Gold watches for dear Maria and myself
came yesterday. The inscriptions are both the same
inside the cases: “From the parishioners of St. Nicholas,
Worcester, March 1860.” The teachers and children of
the Sunday School have also sent us books, nicely chosen
by Mr. Bullock. One special little token from my own
children I shall ever treasure.
Her Sunday School work was a loved employment.
In the neatly kept register entitled “My Sunday Scholars,
from 1846 to 1860,” each child's birthday, entrance date,
occurrences in their home, general impressions of their
character, and subsequent events in their life are
all carefully noted. While absent for a few weeks,
Frances writes to them, and says: “My dear children
have kept up quite a correspondence with me, and print-
ing all my answers is quite a work of time and patience,
but one I do not grudge. Some of their letters are very
sweet and encouraging, and all are at least affectionate
and interesting. At one time I had desperately uphill
* See “A Line Left Out,” in Appendix. Her well-known
hymn, “I gave My life for thee,” first appeared in Good Words.
It was written in Germany, 1858. She had come in weary,
and sat down opposite a picture with this motto. At once the
lines flashed upon her, and she wrote them in pencil on a scrap
of paper. Reading them over, they did not satisfy her. She
tossed them into the fire, but they fell out untouched 1 Showing
them some months after to her father, he encouraged her to preserve
them, and wrote the tune “Baca” specially for them.
54 MEMORAAES OF F. R. E.
work, for mine was then the worst class in the school, and,
out of fourteen, only a small minority were even hopeful.
Sunday after Sunday I absolutely cry about them | Still,
for some I thank God and take courage.” --
* MY SUNDAY SCHOLAR'S REGISTER,”
[The last page.]
I did not think when I ruled this page that it would
be unfilled. Yet so it is, and the last of my dear second
class fills its first space. He who appointeth the bounds
of our habitation has, in manifest providence, removed
our own after fifteen years' sojourn. And it will probably
be some time ere I again have a regular class to care
for, as other claims will fill my Sunday hours.
Among all my St. Nicholas memories, none will be
fonder or deeper than my class. I cannot tell any one
how I loved them, I should hardly be believed; no one
in the parish, either rich or poor, called forth the same
love that they did. Neither could I tell how bitter and
grievous any misbehaviour among them was to me, no
one knows the tears they have cost me; and because
no one guessed at the depth of either the love or the
sorrow, I had but little sympathy under disappointments
with them. I am wrong in one thing I know, but can-
not help it; the feeling that, though I may have a very
sincere love and interest in other children, yet I should
never be able to give any future class the same intensity
of affection which these have won and some of them
have reciprocated. -
It has been to my own soul a means of grace. Often,
when cold and lifeless in prayer, my nightly intercession
for them has unsealed the frozen fountain, and the bless-
ings sought for them seemed to fall on myself.
Often and often have my own words to them been as
a message to myself of warning or peace. My only
regret is that I did not spend more time in preparing
my lessons for them, not more on their account than my
** SUWIDA Y SCHOLAR'S REGAS 7'EP." 55
own, for seldom have Bible truths seemed to reach and
touch me more than when seeking to arrange and
simplify them for my children. Therefore, I thank God
that these children have been entrusted to me !
For some time past several of them have come to me,
once a week, for separate reading and prayer. These
times I have enjoyed very much. I rather dissuaded
than otherwise, unless any real desire after salvation was
manifested ; and I do think that this was so far effectual
that nearly all of those who did come were, at least at the
time, truly in earnest on the great question. I mark “
the regular, x the occasional comers. Nearly two
years have already passed since they were “my children,”
and I cannot say that my love and interest have yet
diminished. I went to Oakhampton at Midsummer
1859, and on my return relinquished them with great
secret regret for another class. I have one token of
their love; given me, not by the then existing “2nd
class,” but by those of both 1st and 2nd who were
“my children.” This I treasure for their sakes, yet
the remembrance of their love is more than its outward
Sign.
I trust it has been true bread which I have cast upon
these waters; my Saviour knows, and He only, my
earnest longings that these little ones should be His
own. I think I am quite content now that others should
see the fruit, so that it be but truly borne, that others
should enter into my feeble and wanting labours. But,
in dear papa's words, I do most fervently pray,
“May all whose names are written here
In the Lamb's Book of Life appear !”
F. R. H., March 1860.
Leaving St. Nicholas was to Frances a strange mixture
of sorrow and thankfulness, “because I do care more for
papa and his health than for anything else in all the
whole world ! But it is not a trifle to leave the many,
rich and poor, with whom one has necessarily become more
56 AMEA/OA’ WALS OF F. R. H.
or less entwined in a way which none but a clergyman's
family can. Yet I hope dear papa will find comparative
rest and strength in consequence, by going to the little
country parish of Shareshill. Papa is so very much to
me, so much more than all besides | He has been very
ill again, and this puts an end to all ideas of farewell
sermons or visits. It is wonderfully thrilling to see him
in illness, such utter peacefulness, such grand concep-
tions of God's absolute sovereignty in everything, such
quiet rejoicing in His will, be it what it may ; such
shining trust in Him, in and for everything, personal or
parochial.”
The removal to Shareshill proved beneficial, and the
welcome of the parishioners was pleasing and encourag-
ing. Frances writes: “The first step, in the way of
improvement at Shareshill, has been to abolish the
Sunday post; to obtain this, the inhabitants were, as
required, unanimous.” This subject was deeply felt by
her, ever sympathising, as she did, with the men
deprived of their Sunday rest: and she often grieved
that some of her Christian friends did not take it up.
Among the subjects upon which she intended writing,
when called home in 1879, was “Sunday Postal Burdens.”
And, in a letter the same year, she writes: “I do think
we Church of England are more conscientious about
Sunday post than some others. I was delighted when
visiting ‘B. M.” to see with the notice of post times (in
the hall) “no delivery or despatch on Sunday.” “No
manner of work’ must include postal delivery, and it is
not right to ignore it; it grieves me when some double-
first-class Christians do not consider the subject.”
CHAPTER VI.
(1861–1869.)
Oakhampton—A new power — Musical gifts — Deep borings —
Subjects for prayer–Hiller's commendation — Remarkable
power of harmonizing—Welcome to Winterdyne — Stormy
petrelism — Sent empty away — Calmer waters — Joining
Young Women's Christian Association — London — “Guess
my birthday treat l”—Signor Randegger — Epitome of his
first singing lesson—New home at Leamington—How poems
came—My Evelyn !—“The Two Rings”—Weary and sad—
First sight of Alpine mountains.
N February 1861, by the wish of her sister and her
I brother-in-law Henry Crane, Frances undertook the
instruction of her two youngest nieces, and made Oak-
hampton her second home. Her father approved of this
plan, because he thought it would prevent her from
pursuing the severe studies so prejudicial to her health.
The lesson hours were very short, owing to the tempera-
ment of both teacher and pupils, and she had many and
long changes of scene, at the seaside, at home and abroad.
She entered with zest into the recreations of her young
companions, riding and scrambling, swimming and skat-
ing, croquet and chess, each in its turn, and excelled in
them all. Her needlework was exquisite, from the often
despised darning to the most delicate lace work and
embroidery. How she redeemed her time these few
lines will prove: “Stirring you up, dearie, to mental im-
provement is no new subject to me. I know, by my own
37
58 AZE MOR/A IS OF A. R. A.
teaching days, how very much might be learnt in all the
odds and ends of time, how (e.g.) I learnt all the Italian
verbs while my nieces were washing their hands for
dinner after our walk, because I could be ready in five
minutes less time than they could.” The faithful old
nurse well remembers “vexing over Miss Frances' hard
studying, and that she found her at those Latin books
long before breakfast.”
Her one great object was the education of her nieces
for eternity, not for time only; and not merely religious
knowledge, but the realities of faith and holy living, were
dwelt upon. -
From the close of her Autobiography, darkness seems
often to have clouded her path. From time to time
she writes:
I had hoped that a kind of table-land had been reached
in my journey, where I might walk awhile in the light,
without the weary succession of rock and hollow, crag
and morass, stumbling and striving ; but I seem borne
back into all the old difficulties of the way, with many
sin-made aggravations. I think the great root of all my
trouble and alienation is that I do not now make an un-
reserved surrender of myself to God; and until this is
done I shall know no peace. I am sure of it. I have so
much to regret: a greater dread of the opinion of worldly
friends, a loving of the world, and proportionate cooling
in heavenly desire and love. A power utterly new and
unexpected was given me [singing and composition of
music], and rejoicing in this I forgot the Giver, and
found such delight in this that other things paled before
it. It need not have been so ; and, in better moments,
I prayed that if it were indeed hindering me the gift of
song might be withdrawn. And now that through my
ill health it is so, and that the pleasure of public applause
when singing in the Philharmonic concerts is not again
4-42 ! ---,
**, *.
DAE EA AORINGS, 59
to exercise its delicious delusion, I do thank Him who
heard my prayer. But I often pray in the dark, as it
were, and feel no response from above. Is this to test
me P Oh that I may be preserved from giving up in
despair, and yielding, as I so often do, to the floodtide
enemy.
I want to make the most of my life and to do the best
with it, but here I feel my desires and motives need
much purifying; for, even where all would sound fair
enough in words, an element of self, of lurking pride, may
be detected. Oh, that He would indeed purify me and
make me white at any cost No one professing to be a
Christian at all could possibly have had a more cloudy,
fearing, doubting, sinning, and wandering heart history
than mine has been through many years.
The first part of this year (1865) I was very poorly,
and on the old régime of having to give up everything,
Sunday School and Saturday evening class, visiting,
music, etc. It was very trying to me, specially so
because I had rather built upon being stronger, and
several points of interest had arisen which made me feel
the more being shut off from all. But it was very good
for me; I was able to feel thankful for it, and to be glad
that God had taken me in hand as it were. I do not
think I would have chosen otherwise than as He
ordered it for me; but it seems as if my spiritual life
would never go without weights, and I dread needing
more discipline,
Deep borings, even down into darksome depths, often
precede the supply of unfailing springs of refreshing
water. Thus my dear sister knew much of doubt and
gloom, so that she might be able to comfort others and
reveal to them God’s deep teachings in the darkness.
Then, when she afterwards found such joy in the wells of
salvation, she drew forth these teachings, refreshing other
weary and thirsty ones with her words of sympathy both
in poetry and prose.
6o MEMORIALS OF F. R. H.
It may be useful to copy the paper kept in her Bible,
showing how she arranged the subjects of her prayers.
For daily Morning Prayer.
Watchfulness. Guard over temper. Consistency.
Faithfulness to opportunities. For the Holy Spirit. For
a vivid love to Christ. -
Mid-day Prayer.
Earnestness of spirit in desire, in prayer, and in all
work. Faith, hope, love.
Evening Prayer.
Forgiveness. To see my sinfulness in its true light
Growth in grace. Against morning sleepiness as hind.
rance to time for prayer.
The initials of all her relatives and friends are dis.
tributed to each day, and various items of intercession
added, such as:
That my life may be laid out to the best advantage as
to God’s glory and others' good. For the Church Mis-
sionary Society and Zenana work. For success and use-
fulness with my subscribers. For the poor whom I visit.
For the Irish Society. Guidance and (if it is God's will)
success as to music. For my Sunday School class. For
the servants.
In the winter of 1865-6 Frances revisited her German
friends, and also resided some time with her parents at
Bonn. -
Having composed many songs, she was anxious for
some verdict on their merit. The following letter de-
scribes her interview with Hiller, the German musician;–
CLAPTON SQUARE, February 1, 1866.
DEAR MIRIAM, -
I must take up my history where I left off, and give
AVTER VIEW WWTH AE/IECZEA. $1
you the Cologne story at last. To begin at the begin.
ning, Elizabeth C. told the Schulzeberges of my composing,
and so they were curious about it, and wanted me to go
to the Musical Academy of Cologne. As I declared
that out of the question, they hoped I would go to
Ferdinand Hiller, whom they consider the greatest living
composer and authority, and show him my songs. I
shrunk from this because I expected nothing but utter
quenching from such a man; still I thought that after all
I might as well know the worst, and if he thought scorn
of all I had done, that would decide me to waste no
more time over it; while, if I got a favourable verdict, if
ever opportunity should arise of prosecuting the study of
composition, I should do so with a clearer conscience
and better hopes. To my utter amazement, papa quite
urged me to go, and a pleasant mirage of a possible
musical term at Cologne Screwed my courage up to
writing to Hiller, who replied kindly, and made an
appointment with me. I went with mamma, such a
queer way among the Rhine wharfs, and through narrow
streets scarcely wide enough for the droschky to pass, till
we emerged in a more open part, and found Hiller's
abode. He is a small elderly man, quiet in manner,
, of handsome and peculiar Jewish physiognomy (he is a
Jew), with a forehead remarkably like papa's, and terribly
clever looking eyes; I think one would single him out as
a genius among any number. He was in a double room
full of musical litter, with a handsome grand piano in the
middle. He received us very politely, and asked me a
few questions (he is a man of few words), and then took
my book of songs and sat down to read it through,
giving me a volume of poetry to amuse myself with mean-
while. You may imagine I didn't read much He made
no remark till he was about three quarters through, when
he turned and said: “What instruction have you had P”
I told him of Hatherley's having corrected my first six
songs, and that I had a musical father, to whom I occa-
sionally referred difficult points, and with whom I had
musical talk in general, “I do not care anything about
62 MEMORALS OF F. R. F.
that,” said he ; “I mean what regular musical course
have you gone through, and under what professor?” I
told him I had done nothing of the sort. He looked
very hard at me, as if to see if I was telling the truth,
and then turned back to my music, saying, “In that case
I find this very remarkable !” When he had finished he
delivered his verdict, the worst part first. He said my
melodies bore the stamp of talent, not of genius. “In
the early works of great composers,” he said, “one comes
across things that startle and strike you; ideas so utterly
fresh and novel that you feel there is great creative
* * power. I do not find this in your melodies; they are
not bad; on the contrary I find them very pleasing and
many really very good, but they are thoroughly English
in character and type; I do not consider that English
melodies rank highest. But, as for your harmonies, I
must say I am astonished. It is something singular to
find such grasp of the subject, such power of harmoniza-
tion, except where there has been long and thorough
study and instruction; here I can give almost unlimited
praise.” I told him my question was (for I thought I
would take a high standard at once) not, had I talent
enough to make music a mere pleasure to myself and
my friends? but had I enough to make it worth while to
devote myself to music as a serious thing, as a life work?
Was there promise enough to make it an advisable in-
vestment of my life, in case I wished to do so P. He
said: “Sincerely and unhesitatingly I can say that you
have.” I remarked how much I should like to study at
Cologne, and under himself. He said he should like to
have the training of me; but, if distance were a difficulty,
there were reliable men in London, and he would re-
commend his friend Macfarren. But I was to go to no
second-rate man, that would be simply no use to me; I
could only gain the polish and “form” which my work
wanted, from some one really first-rate. He recom-
mended me a book on harmony (which I procured in
Cologne), and then wrote a few lines to papa, saying he
had found a good deal of musical talent in my composi-
T_r
AZZ}_A.R.S COMMEMDA 7TWOAV. 63
tions, and that “but a short time would be sufficient to
place me in a state to give a good form to the musical
ideas with which I was gifted.” I did not expect all
this ; and though I shall not do anything at present, it is
pleasant to know I have a talent, which I may some day
develop to some purpose, for I never quite believed what
Dr. Marshall said about it, and I thought if I had the
talent he said I had, I should feel cleverer, somehow,
than I do. Papa is vexed because when Hiller asked
“Spielen sie gut?” (do you play well?) I replied simply
“No, not well,” because I thought he would judge by a
professional standard, Papa says I ought to have then
offered to play one of my things, but I had not the pluck
or the presence of mind. . . . I supposed you
would like to hear all about Hiller, else it seems con-
ceited to have written so much.
Now for the home journey to Lille and a pleasant
visit to Mons. and Madame V 's. Their country
house is about a mile out of the town. . . . It was
pleasant to meet old friends, and it is quite fascinating to
get, also, a spice of fresh characters and life. Next morn-
ing Mons. V. took me about the lower rooms, and gave
me an amusing description of Lille life. He is a sort of
chieftain of the clan, which consists of about 270 nephews
and nieces, and their children. He keeps them all in
order. “On a grand peur demon oncle Emile,” says he;
“if I see what I do not like I lecture them de manière
qu'on s'en souviendra.” But, on the other hand,
“mon oncle Emile” is rich, and can be very gracious,
and is worth keeping on good terms with. Every
Sunday there are thirty-eight who “ have the right” to
dine with him, and every Wednesday evening he receives
a wider circle in a large galerie, glass above and all
around, like an immense enclosed verandah, so pretty
with creepers and fancy plants all about. It overlooks
his orangery and greenhouses, ornamental water with
two bridges, pretty trees, a most charming view alto-
gether. e tº
Such a good crossing from Calais; the sea quite glassy
64 • AMAZMORALS OF F. R. H.
I leaned over the side and watched the foam and curl
of the water behind the paddles, and wrote verses
[“Travelling Thoughts”] in my account book. I was
° able to see the white cliffs of Dover for the first time, and
was almost sorry to leave the boat. º
* Your loving sister.
It may not be out of place here to mention that such
was the strength of her musical memory, that she
would play through Handel, much of Beethoven and
Mendelssohn, without any notes. A pupil of Beethoven
thought her rendering of the Moonlight Sonata perfect;
her touch was instinct with soul, as also was her singing.
During her stay at Oakhampton her brother-in-law
engaged Dr. Wm. Marshall to give her singing lessons;
and she attended the meetings of the Philharmonic
Society at Kidderminster, of which he was the conductor.
The practice of sacred music was an extreme gratification
to her, and she soon became a valued solo singer. Her
rendering of Mendelssohn’s “Woe unto them,” “But
the Lord is mindful of His own,” are remembered as
s peculiarly effective, though it was in Handel's music that
she more particularly delighted. -
The ease with which Frances constantly versified family
events is shown in the following lines, written when Mr.
and Mrs. Shaw left Ireland, for their English home at
Winterdyne:- -
WELCOME TO WINTERDYNE,
(For ZXecember 14th 1866.)
FRANCIE and Willie, welcome to you !
Alfred and Alice, welcome too !
To an English home and English love
Welcome each little Irish dove :
Never again we hope to be
Kept apart by an angry Sea.
WEzco ME TO WINTERD YAVE. - 65
* *===
A thousand welcomes, O darlings mine,
When we see you at Winterdyne.
Welcome all to a warm new nest,
Just the place for our doves to rest,
Through the oaks and beeches looking down
On the winding valley and quaint old town,
Where ivy green on the red rock grows,
And silvery Severn swiftly flows,
With an extra sparkle and glitter and shine
Under the woods of Winterdyne.
Qn a quiet evening in lovely spring,
In the tall old elms the nightingales sing;
Under the forest in twilight grey
I have heard them more than a mile away,
Sweeter and louder and far more clear
Than any thrush you ever did hear;
Perhaps when the evenings grow long and fine
They will sing to you in Winterdyne.
Little to sadden, and nothing to fear;
Priest, and Fenian, never come here;
Only the sound of the Protestant bells
Up from the valley pleasantly swells,
And a beautiful arch, to church, is made
Under the sycamore avenue's shade;
You pass where its arching boughs entwine,
Out of the gates of Winterdyne.
Welcome to merry old England 1 And yet
We know that old Ireland you will not forget;
Many a thought and prayer will fly
Over the mountains of Wales, so high,
Over the forest and over the sea,
To the home which no longer yours must be,
But farewells are over, O darlings mine,
Now it is Welcome to Winterdyne !
Her own words will continue the record of her inner 3c.
life in the year 1866.
Few things have a more salutary eſſect upon me than
E -
66 A/EMORAAAZS OF F. A. Fy.
reading secular biographies. For, successful or unsuc-
cessful alike, “vanity of vanities” seems the truest
characteristic of every life not devoted to the very highest
aim. “Queens of Society,” “Autobiography of Louis
Spohr,” and others, have left this feeling strongly upon
me, and have been auxiliary in making me wish that my
life may be laid out for Him, whose it is by right. Oh,
that He may make me a vessel sanctified and meet for
the Master's use ! I look at trial and training of every
kind in this light, not its effect upon oneself for oneself,
but in its gradual fitting of me to do the Master's work.
So, in very painful spiritual darkness or conflict, it has
already comforted me to think that God might be leading
me through strange dark ways, so that I might afterward
be His messenger to some of His children in similar
distress. My ill health this summer has been very trying
to me. I am held back from much I wanted to do in
every way, and have had to lay poetizing aside. And yet
such open doors seemed set before me. Perhaps this
check is sent that I may consecrate what I do more
entirely. I have a curious vivid sense, not merely of my
verse faculty in general being given me, but also of every
separate poem or hymn, nay every line, being given. It
is peculiarly pleasant thus to take it as a direct gift, not
a matter of effort, but purely involuntarily. . . .
I suppose that God’s crosses are often made of most
unexpected and strange material. Perhaps trials must
be felt keenly, or it would not be powerful enough
as a medicine in the hands of our beloved Healer;
and I think it has been a medicine to me latterly.
You may wonder that I write thus, when I was so merry
with you at L–; but, among the best gifts of God to
me, I count a certain stormy petrelism of nature, which
seems to enable me to skim any waves when I am not
actually under them. I have an elasticity which often
makes me wonder at myself, a power of throwing myself
into any present interest or enjoyment, though the
Borrow is only suspended not removed.
But once I seemed permitted to suffer mentally in an
STORMY PAE TRAE Z/SM. 67
unmitigated sort of way, which I never knew before,
Perhaps to teach me how to feel for others who have
not that stormy petrelism which bears me through most
things. For that forsook me utterly, and I felt crushed
and forsaken of all or any help or cheer, to an extent I
never felt before,
I wish I rejoiced more, not only on my own account,
but if I may so say, on His, for surely I should praise
Him more by both lip and life. Mine has been such a
shady Christian life, yet “He led them forth by the right
way” must somehow be true here, though I don't see
; , , , , how. I ought to make one exception; I have learned a
real sympathy with others walking in darkness, and some-
times it has seemed to help me to help them.
I send you this text, Matthew xxv. 40, and I want
you to let it brighten all your work; but one can never
come to the end of the graciousness of it. Some
months ago, I called on one of my dear old women in
Worcester. She talked of the King; and, coming away,
I felt impelled to give her something which I had not
intended for her, and knew I could not afford without
a trifling self-denial. She took it silently, paused, and
then said, with a simple sweet solemnity, “Inasmuch l’’
Well, ever since I have revelled in that wonderful “Inas-
much.” Only think of His really considering all our
poor little services as done unto Him 1 And this is quite
apart from what we consider success or results. It is
not only spiritual ministrations, but all other little kind-
nesses. How one would have liked to have been one
of the women who ministered unto Him, but it is so
marvellously gracious of Him to give you and me, to wit,
opportunities of doing what He considers the same thing.
. . . . You may think it strange, but I have long
almost shrunk from going to the sacrament, dreading the
being sent empty away. Oh, if He would but grant
me my request just once—that I might “taste and see I’
Communion Sundays are so often my saddest days;
great tension of feeling, longing, unsatisfied desire, and
sorrowful pleading, followed by the reaction of miserable
68 MEMORIALs or P. R. H.
apathy. . It is only one or two who know about my
clouds, though many know what I believe about sunshine.
. . . . Sunday is over. “Sent empty away.” Just
empty, no other word seems to express it; not full of
anything. I would rather even have been full of distress
than thus empty. Not one sweet verse or comforting
thought seemed given me. All the beautiful service
seemed to pass through the ear and never reach my
heart. Oh, if He would only show me “wherefore He
contendeth with me.” It has brought me to the terrible
old feeling, “how can I be one of His sheep if I never
hear the Shepherd's voice, if He never meets me where
{He meets others P”
Her nieces Evelyn and Constance went to school in
1866-7 ; and, in consequence, Frances then left Oak.
hampton, and always afterwards resided at home.
(From F. R. H.’s manuscript papers, May 1867.)
It seems as if the Lord had led me into a calmer
and more equable frame of mind; not joy, but peace.
And texts light up to me very pleasantly sometimes.
Why should I not take for granted all I find in the
Bible? why should I hesitate and tremble over it, as I
have been doing for years? I have been appropriating
all the promises with a calm sort of twilight happiness,
waiting for a clearer light to show me their full beauty
and value.
It does seem to me that “free grace” does not
mean there is nothing on our side. We may phrase
it “coming,” “accepting,” “believing,” “touching the
hem ;” but there is something which these words repre-
sent, which is necessary to salvation; and then comes
the question, have / this condition ? Yet as soon as Z
in any form comes in, there is shadow upon the light.
Still, this shadow need not fall when the eye is fixed
upon Christ as the Substitute, the Lamb slain; then all
is clear. But it is in reading, when one's heart leaps at
some precious promise made to the children of God,
| IAA
yovyc houſews carrszaw Associa Trow 69
that a cold check comes, “Am I one of them P what is
my title?” Answer, “Ye are all the children of God by
faith in Jesus Christ.” Have I faith? Once introduce
that I, and you get bewildered between faith and feeling.
When I go on and grapple with the difficulty, it
comes to this. As far as I know, I have come to Jesus,
not once but many times. I have knelt, and literally
prostrated myself before Him, and told him all, that I
have no other hope but what His written word says He
did and said, that I know it is true, that the salvation it
tells of is just what I want and all I want, and that my
neart goes out to it, and that I do accept it; that I do
not fully grasp it, but I cling to it; that I want to be
His only and entirely, now and for ever.
(The last entry.)
I have been so happy lately, and the words “Thou
hast put gladness in my heart” I can use, as true of
my own case; especially as to one point, I am sure now
(and I never was before) that I do love God. I love
Him distinctly, positively; and I think I have loved Him
more and longer than I thought, only I dared not own
it to myself. Oh that I loved Him more and more
How I abhor myself for having loved, for loving, so little.
In the autumn of 1867 she enjoyed a visit to the lakes
with her former schoolfellow, J. H. E., and J. T., a
charming poetess. Frances writes: “I had every
possible variety of effects, from grey lake mists and rain
to silver and gold, and rosy transparent purple and soft
dreamy hazes, and marvellous clearness and veilings and
unveilings, and everything that is lovely except snow.”
(F. R. H. to Miss Clara Gedge, September 1867.)
I thank you very specially for having asked
me to join the Young Women's Christian Association,
On my side it will be an extra strong link; because,
7o MEMORAAES OF F. R. H.
whatever help and blessing for myself and others I
may find through it, I shall not forget that I owe
my membership to you. I have written the date of
my joining in the cover of my Bible, as a continual
reminder (if any could be needed) of such a privilege;
and under it the names of all whom I know to
be members, yours of course standing first. How
little we know each other's need . How often the text
we want to send must be a bow drawn at a venture
Yet again, how alike are our needs, and how pleasant
to know that we may ask Him, to whom each heart is
open, to guide us to choose the right gem from the
precious mine of His word I do not feel inclined to
send you anything out of the way to-day, dear Clara, but
just one of the dear old rock-texts, which are always
something to stand upon, and this one especially so for
your birthday: “He hath said, I will never leave thee
nor forsake thee.” For this embraces all our years; if
true at all, it has been so all along, even when we felt far
off. He was near when we felt alone; He was surely,
though hidden, beside us. .
The date on the Y. W. C. A. card of membership is
September 23, 1867; No. 2181. This Association
proved a lifelong rivet; and manifold were her efforts
to link others in its helpful fellowship.
It is impossible to give even an idea of her efforts for
many societies. Just at this time, she was wishful to
give lessons in singing, for the Church Missionary
Society; and her steady work in collecting for it never
ceased. The Jews', the Church Pastoral-Aid, and the
Bible Society were alike valued. Skilfully did she induce
others to take an interest in them; and in the February of
her last winter (1879), one bitter night, she headed a
number of Welsh neighbours and lads to go, forthefirst time
in their lives, to a Bible Society meeting at the Mumbles.
We again give some extracts from her letters.
A.OAVICOA/ 71
PEMBRIDGE CRESCENT, November 1867.
o Among other pleasures in London, I have
made acquaintance with the authoress of “Doing and
Suffering.” She gave me a good deal of practical advice
about my schemes for milliners’ classes. I want very
much to give singing lessons for the Church Missionary
Society, and German lessons for the Irish Society; this
would be clear gain, and also give me opportunities for
influence among the class which interest me so much.
. . . I must tell you about the east window in Mr.
Bickersteth's church at Hampstead. Nothing in the
window line ever made such an impression upon me.
It is all filled in with simple arabesque and diaper work,
merely quiet harmonious colour, nothing to arrest the
eye, except the centre light, and in that is a white scroll
on a blue ground, with just the words in crimson and
gold letters, “Till He come.” It sent quite a thrill
through me. It is so exactly what one would like to
look up to from the holy table. . . . I must send
you “In whom we have the forgiveness of sins,” because
I have just had a glimpse of the beauty and power of it,
and I like best to send you what has been given me.
Of course I lost it again; but, in praying for forgiveness,
and sorrowfully enough, as usual, I remembered your
quotation from Adelaide Newton, and then this flashed
upon me, “in whom—zwe have,” and was so satisfactory.
Perhaps you don't feel the utter need of it that I do,
but still I know it is precious truth for every one.
GoDSTONE, December 1867.
Guess my birthday treat? To the Zoological Gardens.
I don't know anything I would rather see in London.
I am a perfect baby as to animals | I managed to get
three more singing lessons, though I was never in voice,
and had a bad cold. Signor Randegger says I have many
mechanical difficulties to overcome, but gives me credit
for “talent, taste, feeling, and brains.” I might improve
if under him for a year, and he consoled me by saying
72 MEMORIA LS OF F. R. F.
“I might always calculate on expressive singing.” His
first lesson was a lecture on the formation of the throat
and production of sound, which he told me to write out
as an abstract. I was very poorly in bed the next day;
so, having nothing to do, it occurred to me to rhyme it.
Afterwards I was afraid lest he might be touchy and
think I was making game of it. However it was quite
the other way, and he asked for a copy to show his
pupils.
MY SINGING LESSON. (Abstract.)
HERE beginneth, Chapter the first of a series,
To be followed by manifold notes and queries;
So novel the queries, so trying the notes,
I think I must have the queerest of throats,
And most notable dulness, or else long ago
The Signor had given up teaching, I trow.
I wonder if ever before he has taught
A pupil who can't do a thing as she ought !
The voice has machinery (now to be serious),
Invisible, delicate, strange, and mysterious,
A wonderful organ-pipe firstly we trace,
Which is small in a tenor and wide in a bass :
Below an AEolian harp is provided,
Through whose fairy-like fibres the air will be guided.
Above is an orifice, larger or small,
As the singer desires to rise or to fall;
Expand and depress it, to deepen your roar,
But raise and contract it, when high you would soar.
Alas for the player, the pipes, and the keys,
If the bellows give out an inadequate breeze 1
So this is the method of getting up steam,
The one motive power for song or for scream.
Slowly and deeply, and just like a sigh,
Fill the whole chest with a mighty supply;
Through the mouth only, and not through the nose;
And the lungs must condense it ere farther it goes.
(How to condense it I really don't know,
And very much hope the next lesson will show.)
THE AWA W HOME. 73
Then, forced from each side, through the larynx it comes,
And reaches the region of molars and gums,
And half of the sound will be ruined or lost
If by any impediment here it is crossed.
On the soft of the palate beware lest it strike,
The effect would be such as your ear would not like.
And arch not the tongue, or the terrified note
Will straightway be driven back into the throat.
Look well to your trigger, nor hasten to pull it,
Once hear the report, and you’ve done with your bullet.
In the feminine voice there are registers three,
Which upper, and middle, and lower must be;
And each has a sounding-board all of its own,
The chest, lips, and head, to reverberate tone.
But in cavities nasal it never must ring,
Or no one is likely to wish you to sing.
And if on this subject you waver in doubt,
By listening and feeling the truth will come out.
The lips, by-the-bye, will have plenty to do
In forming the vowels Italian and true;
Eschewing the English, uncertain and hideous,
With an o and a u that are simply amphibious.
In flexible freedom let both work together,
And the under one must not be stiffened like leather.
Here endeth the substance of what I remember,
Indited this twenty-sixth day of November.
The following extracts will illustrate my dear sister's
life at this time:–
PyRMONT WILLA, LEAMINGTON, December 27, 1867.
dº º is My first note in my new room in our new
home must be to you. It is solemn to think of what
I may go through in this room : probably many happy
hours, certainly many sorrowful ones. In all human
probability it will be my room until the great sorrow falls
which has already often seemed imminent, unless I die
before my precious father. I have just been praying
74 AME}#OA' NAAS OF F. A. A.
words from my own mamma's lips, when I was a little
girl, “Prepare me for all that Thou art preparing for
me.” Yet, in spite of these thoughts, I have not been at
all in a good frame of mind; oh, how often hidden
evil is brought to light by some unexpected Ithuriel
touch. Every one calls me sweet tempered; but oh, I
have been so ruffled two or three times, that I wonder
and grieve at myself. I always suffer for being naughty ;
I lose all enjoyment in prayer directly. “Oh, for a heart
that never sins !”
January 18th, 1868, after describing her room :
Can you fancy me there? The only drawback is that,
being at the top of the house, it will not be available for
classes. I do wish all good carpets and furniture were
at the bottom of the sea They are among the devices
to hinder usefulness. I have done nothing about a class
yet, and do hope I shall not be wilful in choosing for
myself! . . . I never saw such a place as Leamington,
every hole and corner seems dusted out ! Such a
number of earnest loving workers; some are wonderful,
I am not worthy to sit at their feet.
(To E. C.)
LEAMINGTON, February 22, 1868.
“Grace unto you and peace from God our Father and
the Lord Jesus Christ.” I send for your birthday the
result of a year's daily and loving thought for you [a
Bible marked]. It is the worse for wear, having been
with me in boxes, bags, and pockets. I have marked
what struck me as containing food, light, and teaching
of some sort. I do hope you will find my markings a
help and pleasure, because not one chapter has been
read without prayer for the Holy Spirit's teaching. . . .
Can you not take Psalm xxiii. 6, as a birthday text?
only, the goodness and mercy are following all the days,
* even when their bright outline is lost in the shadow of
My EVELYN 75
closely pressing trials, and sometimes in our own shadow.
e I am getting on with my book, and might finish
it in a week or two by putting on steam ; but I am reso-
lutely not hurrying it. . . .
February 1868.
. . . I have not had a single poem come to me for
some time, till last night, when one shot into my mind.
All my best have come in that way, Minerva fashion,
full grown. It is so curious, one minute I have not an
idea of writing anything, the next I have a poem ; it is
mine, I see it all, except laying out rhymes and metre,
which is then easy work I rarely write anything which
has not come thus. “Hidden Leaves” is the title; I
wonder how you would work it out after this beginning:
“Oh, the hidden leaves of life,
Closely folded in the breast !”
The illness and death of her niece, Evelyn Emily
Crane, was deeply felt. We may not give full details;
but it was her Aunt Frances who had led her to Christ
some three years before, and her dying message con-
firmed the reality of her joyful trust in the Lord Jesus,
April 14, 1868.
DEAREST MARIA,
That is indeed a precious message. The tension of
this last week has been terrible. I think it so excessively
kind of you to tell me all you do. I hunger for it; you
will understand how. My Evelyn's ring!” This is kind!
I shall always wear it. Once she wanted to wear mine.
I have had most beautiful and comforting notes from
J. H. E. and many others. The Hebrew word J. H. S.
sent me pleased me much. I have had such sympathy
from my new friends here. Oh, Marie dear, it is answer
* See “The Two Rings,” in “Under the Surface,” page 221.
76 MEMORYALS OF F. R. H.
assºsºmºsº
to prayer indeed, Don't think me selfish in letting
out a little to you, or that I do not intensely feel for
them because I feel so much myself. I wrote some
verses Saturday evening (which I intended no one to see),
“Dying? Evelyn, darling ! Dying? can it be P”* but
will send them you; and, if you think they would be
more pleasure than pain, show them poor The
memorial card made me realize it at last. Last night I
sat long with it before me, with such an utter flood of love
for that child in my heart. It rose and rose, and the
sorrow and sense of loss with it, and how I last saw her
in all her graceful beauty. Then, at last, came a sudden
glimpse, almost a vision, of seeing her again and having
such a full and loving welcome from her above | . . .
Your loving sister.
LEAMINGTON, May 1868.
. . . I am not ill, but overdone and tired. A nice
letter even to you is an impossibility. This has been
trial, but as yet I see no “nevertheless afterwards.”
I have been falling back on “O Lord, Thou knowest.”
ſº I only send you two words; but they are, and
will be seen to be, the true “theme” or “subject,”
speaking musically, carried through all the majors and
minors of life ; “MARVELLOUS Lov1NGKINDNESS.” . . .
(Tb E. C.) |
LEAMINGTON, February.
Another birthday! so I send you another note of birth-
day love; “Surely my judgment is with the Lord, and
my work with my God.” That word “work” seems to
include and imply “reward of work,” so the whole thing
is with your God; it is as if you carry home your daily
portion of work to Him, and He lays it up safe with
what preceded it; and some day He will bring it out all in
—w-
* See “Under His Shadow,” page 167.
º:
SAVO W MOUAVTA/AWS. 77
one beautiful completed piece, with many finishings and
beautifyings beyond what your hand wrought; and His
“Well done !” will be your reward, whether it be delayed
till he adds “Enter thou” or not. At last I have
had my longed for “pause in life,” but as yet I am not
well enough to enjoy it. Maria will tell you how
wretchedly ill I have been.
May 8th.
I only heard of your accident last night. My dear
old text flashed upon me the instant I heard of it,
“Meet, for the Master's use;” surely it is for that He
has taken His vessel away from active use, that it may
be made more meet. I feel so disposed to look out
for much marked blessing upon you and your work
when He permits you to resume it. Let me give you
another, “He will be very gracious unto thee at the
voice of thy cry.” That has comforted me often, more
than any promise of answer; it includes answers and a
great deal more besides; it tells us what He is towards
us, and that is more than what He will do. And the
“cry” is not long, connected, thoughtful prayers; a
cry is just an unworded dart upwards of the heart,
and at that “voice” He will be very gracious. What a
smile there is in these words I º
In May 1869 our brother-in-law, Mr. Crane, took
Frances, with his wife and eldest daughter Miriam, to
Switzerland, by the Rhine route to Heidelberg, Freiburg,
Basle, and Schaffhausen. Her neatly kept journal has
photographs of the several places visited, and the Alpine
flowers she dried for its pages.
THE RHINE FALLs, June 9th.
It was fascinating to look down at the wild rapids,
sheets of glass-like transparency, flowing Swiftly over
rock tables, then a sudden precipice below water, which
might go down to any depth, only that you are not
looking down into darkness, but into emerald and snow
78 MEMORIAA.S. O.F. A. R. H.
mingled and transfused marvellously. The rocks be:
neath are not a smooth ledge; thus the water is thrown
out into a chaos of magnificent curves and leaps, infinitely
more beautiful than any single chute could be. You
look up, and see masses of bright water hurled ever-
lastingly irresistibly down, down, down with a sort of
exuberance of the joy of utter strength; you look across,
and see shattered diamonds by millions leaping and
glittering in the sunshine; you look down, and it is a
tremendous wrestling and overcoming of flood upon
flood, all the more weirdly grand that it is half hidden
in the clouds of spray. Every drop is so full of light
that the eye is soon dazzled and weary: oh if one were
only all spirit ! The next day it was great luxury to sit
on the terrace overlooking the falls. I jotted some verses
(“He hath spoken in the darkness”),” which have been
Haunting me for two or three days. The text was sent
me lately, “What I tell you in darkness that speak ye
in light.” I never noticed it before; how strange it is
what treasures we miss every time we read His word
BERNE, June 12th.
At last ! Miriam crept quietly to the window about
5 a.m., and I woke as she passed. “Anything to see?”
“Oh yes, I really do believe I see them 1" Of course
I was up in a second. The sun had risen above the
thick mist, and away in the south-east were the weird
giant outlines of the Bernese Oberland mountains
bending towards the sun, as if they had been our
mighty guardian spirits all night, and were resigning
their charge ere they flew away into farther light. The
very mist was a folding of wings about their feet, and a
veiling of what might be angel brows, quiet and Serene.
It is no use laughing at “fancies;” wait till you have
seen what we did from the roof of the Berner Hof
So now the dream of all my life is realised, and I
* See “Under the Surface,” page 161.
º
SAVO W MOUNTAIAWS. 79
have seen snow mountains ! When I was quite a little
child of eight years old I used to reverie about them,
and when I heard the name of the snow-covered Sierra
de la Summa Paz (perfect peace) the idea was completed;
and I thenceforth always thought of eternal snow and
perfect peace together, and longed to see the one and
drink in the other. And I am not disappointed. They
are just as pure, and bright, and peace-suggestive as ever
I dreamt them. It may be rather in the style of the old
women who invariably say, “It’s just like heaven,” when
they get a tolerably comfortable tea-meeting; but really
I never saw anything material and earthly which so
suggested the ethereal and heavenly, which so seemed to
lead up to the unseen, to be the very steps of the Throne;
and one could better fancy them to be the visible founda-
tions of the invisible celestial city, bearing some wonder-
ful relation to its transparent gold and Crystal sea, than
only snow and granite, rising out of this same every-day
earth we are treading, dusty and stony | . . .
In the autumn of this year Frances went to Scotland,
and extremely enjoyed the Highland scenery; at the
same time visiting various friends.
CH A P T E R W II.
(1870-1871.)
A father's holy teaching—Peaceful death—“Yet speaketh”—
“Songs of Grace and Glory”—How harmony was learnt—
Letter on tunes in “Havergal's Psalmody”—The “hush of
praise” — Sympathy — The great transition — The most
enjoyable trip to Switzerland — A real Alpine dawn—The
Vaudois chaplain—Vivas on the Col de la Seigne—Christ-
mas Day—Waiting, not working.
ANY pictures could be drawn of Frances' home
life at Leamington. Especially did she value
the sympathy of her dear father in all her studies. With
him she delighted to talk out hard questions; and his
classical knowledge, his poetic and musical skill, settled
many a point. She would rush down with her new poems
or thoughts, awaiting his criticisms. And very charming
was it to hear her lively coaxing that he would “just sing,”
as she accompanied his sacred songs; while at other
times I have seen her absorbed with his improvised
melodies, fugues and intricate progressions, thrilling yet
passing. His holy and consistent example, ever holding
forth the word of life and sound doctrine, had been as
a guiding light on his child's path; of this Frances writes
in “Yet Speaketh.”
“Deep teachings from the Word he held so dear,
Things new and old in that great treasure found,
80
A FATHER”S HOLY Z'EACHAVG. 81
A valiant cry, a witness strong and clear,
A trumpet with no dull uncertain sound;
These shall not die, but live; his rich bequest
To that beloved Church whose servant is at rest.”
Another daughter describes him very truthfully; and
her lines are also given.
A Tribute to my Father, on his Birthday, 1866.
WHILE we reckon up thy years,
Balancing our hopes and fears,
Praise we our Redeemer's grace
Shining on thy pilgrim race.
He hath given thee work to do,
And the task to suffer too.
He hath given thee art to twine
Music-chords with song sublime,
Holy chant and choral hymn,
Praise-notes fit for seraphim ;
Tuneful voice and ready pen
Charm and teach the souls of men;
And thy God hath given thee skill,
Guiding youth to do His will;
And, as pastor in His fold,
Christ's salvation to uphold.
Now a time for rest is thine
In the land of Beulah's shine,
Where the angels come and go,
Bringing help and hope, and low
Sweet echoes of the heavenly chime,
Cheering on the flight of time.
Oh may health and peace be given,
Till the ties of earth be riven,
And this birthday happy be
With the light of heaven on Thee!
J. MIRIAM CRANE.
The shadow of death fell swiftly and stealthily on our
dear father's path. The care of his devoted wife had,
By
§2 MEMORALS OF F. R. H.
doubtless, warded off many an attack of serious illness.
On Easter Even, 1870, he was unusually well and had
walked out during the day. Later on he sat down to his
harmonium, playing and singing the tune composed by
him in the morning.” He rose early, as usual, on Easter
Day; but apoplexy ensued; and, after forty-eight hours
of unconsciousness, he passed away.
“Yet speaketh !” there was no last word of love,
So suddenly on us the sorrow fell;
His bright translation to the home above
Was clouded with no shade of farewell;
His last Lent evening closed with praise and prayer,
And then began the songs of endless Easter there.
In Astley churchyard, under the fir tree (the place
which he had chosen years before), he rests “till that
day.” The epitaph on the white marble tomb is as follows:
The Rev. WILLIAM HENRY HAVERGAL, M.A., Vicar of
Shareshill and Hon. Canon of Worcester Cathedral.
Died at Leamington, 19th April 1870, aged 77. Curate
7, and Rector 13 years, of this parish, 1822 to 1843.
“A faithful minister in the Lord” (Eph. vi. 21).
Memorial tablets were also placed in Worcester
Cathedral, St. Nicholas and Shareshill Churches.
Some weeks after, Frances wrote to Elizabeth Clay:
I was terribly upset last night, and yet not all sadness;
one of papa's chants was gloriously sung at the West-
minster Abbey evening service; such a scene and such
music . . . “I know their sorrows” (Exod. iii. 7)
is full of intensest comfort when it is needed; it is the
climax in it which has so much struck me as correspond-
ing to three degrees of sorrow which I suppose all know;
anyhow, you do and I do. That sorrow which can be
seen is the lightest form really, however apparently heavy;
*
* No. 163 in “Havergal's Psalmody.”
* ALA PERGAZ’S PSAEMODY.” 83
then there is that which is not seen, secret sorrows which
yet can be put into words, and can be told to near friends
as well as be poured out to God; but there are sorrows
beyond these, such as are never told, and cannot be put
into words, and may only be wordlessly laid before God:
these are the deepest. Now comes the supply for each :
“I have seen” that which is patent and external;
“I have heard their cry,” which is the expression of this,
and of as much of the external as is expressible ; but this
would not go deep enough, so God adds, “I know their
sorrows,” down to very depths of all, those which no eye
sees or ear ever heard. Is it not a beautiful climax P
It was soon after her father's death that my sister
undertook the preparation for the press of “Havergal's
Psalmody,” which afterwards was largely used in connec-
tion with the Rev. C. B. Snepp's Hymnal, “Songs of
Grace and Glory.”
The preparation for the work of harmonising she alludes
to in a letter to her friend Mary C. in 1866.
How I should like to teach you harmony I do
believe I could make it lucid ; you can’t think what
exquisite symmetry there is in chords and intervals, so
that I always feel, as well as believe, that man by no
means invented harmony, but only found out God's
beautiful arrangements in it. As for my own composi-
tions, I am (at some cost of resolution) abstaining en-
tirely. Hiller, of Cologne, recommended me an excellent
book, which I got, and determined to write no more till
I had gone through it; this I am steadily doing, and
enjoy writing the exercises. I suppose, after Hiller's pro-
fessional opinion, it would be affectation to say I had no
talent, and I certainly do feel I have at least a sort of
inherited instinct for seeing into harmonies. The way I
studied harmony was rather unique; some years ago (at
home) I kept a treatise on harmony in my bedroom,
read as much as I could conveniently grasp the last
84 MEMORIAA.S OF F. R. H.
Nº
-*
thing, and then worked out the exercises in my head
before going to sleep. This I did for several weeks, and
suppose I must have taken it in very comfortably under
this system, inasmuch as I had some work to persuade
Hiller that I had gone through no “academical course 1"
Frances writes (1870) of difficulties in the work:
I was so struck this morning with “Thou art the
Helper of the fatherless,”—the very first time one of
those special orphan promises has come home to me. I
had been puzzling over a tune which papa would have
decided about in a minute, and missed him so much,
, when suddenly this verse flashed upon me brightly. I
think that even in music the Lord is my helper now ;
much more in other things.
When composing some tunes at this time, I selected
six about which I felt doubtful, and sent them to Sir
Frederick Ouseley, asking him to say if they were all
right. This he most kindly did ; to my great delight he
endorsed them every one, and praised them too.
Very prayerfully did she write several Hymns for
“Songs of Grace and Glory;” and, when she heard from
time to time of their being blessed, she wrote in answer
to a friend's communication:
It does seem wonderful that God should use and bless
my hymns; and yet it really does seem as if the seal of
His own blessing were set upon them, for so many
testimonies have reached me. Writing is praying with
me, for I never seem to write even a verse by myself,
and feel like a little child writing; you know a child
would look up at every sentence and say, “And what
shall I say next?” That is just what I do; I ask that at
every line He would give me, not merely thoughts and
power, but also every word, even the very rhymes, Very
often I have a most distinct and happy consciousness
of direct answers. As you use “Havergal's Psalmody,” I
thought you might be interested to know a little more about
my dear father, so will you accept a “Memorial” of him *
WRITING FOR THE GREAT COAVGRAEGATION. 85
Literal “singing for Jesus” is to me, somehow, the
most personal and direct commission I hold from my
beloved Master; and my opportunities for it are often
most curious, and have been greatly blessed; every line
in my little poem “singing for Jesus” is from personal
experience. . . .
I was so overwhelmed on Sunday at hearing three of
my hymns touchingly sung at Perry Church. I never
before realized the high privilege of writing for “the
great congregation;” especially 633, “I gave my life
for thee” to papa's tune “Baca ;” the others were 120
and 921 in “S. G. G.”
(To Margaret W-.)
º . Last night they sang “To Him who for our
sins was slain,” to my little tune “Tryphosa ;” it went so
deliciously, and choir and Congregation really rang out
the Alleluias so brightly that it suddenly came over me,
as it never did before, what a privilege it is even to have
contributed a bit of music for His direct praise. It was
a sort of hush of praise, all alone with Jesus, for His great
goodness. I had no idea “Tryphosa” was such a pretty
tune before | . . .
About coming to hear , I see that I shall glorify
Him most by staying away. Fruits of my profession are
looked for, and what will be looked for in this case is
submission to known wishes and the yielding up of my
own. It is sure to be all right. I don't think He will
let me lose the blessing and the help I had looked
for in coming. . . .
One result of her own trials was sympathy with others,
beautifully expressed in the following letter:
LEAMINGTON, December Io, 1870.
DEAR, DEAR MRS. SNEPP,-
What can one do but just weep with you ! I can only
guess what this sorrow is. Only I know it must be the
greatest except one, which could come to you. That
86 AZE MORIAZS OF A. R. R.
dear little beautiful thing; He looked so sweet and
happy when I saw him at the station : no baby face ever
haunted me as, somehow, his did. If you could only see
him now, how beautiful he must be now that he has
seen Jesus and shines in the light of God. It is even
more wonderful to think of that great transition for a
baby than for a grown person; one cannot imagine the
sudden expansion into such knowledge and conscious
joy. I was looking back early this morning, upon long
memories of Soul trials, years of groping and stumbling
and longing, sinning, and sorrowing, of heart weariness
and faintness, temptation and failure; all these things
which I suppose every Christian must pass through, more
* or less, at some stage or other on the way home ; and the
first distinct thought which came through the surprise and
sorrow at the sad news was, “that the little redeemed
one is spared all this, taken home without any of these
roughest roughnesses of the way; he will never fear or
doubt or sin, never grieve the Saviour. Is it not the
very best and kindest thing that tender Saviour could
do for him P Only it is not what you mean when you
prayed that he might be His own, But better, for he is
with Him at once and for ever, and waiting for you to
come home too. I am only writing all this because my
heart is full, and must pour out a little. I know we can't
comfort, only Jesus can ; and I shall go and plead long
and intensely for this as soon as I have closed my letter.
He must be specially, “touched” in such a sorrow, for
He knows by actual experience what human love is.
Three such great sorrows in one year ! how specially He
must be watching you in such a furnace . . . Yours
with deepest sympathy and love.
In June of 1871 Frances and her friend Elizabeth Clay
spent some weeks in Switzerland; with no encumbering
luggage, just carpet bags and knapsacks, they often
diverged from beaten routes. Frances always spoke of
this as the most enjoyable of all her Swiss tours. Walk-
ing up the Reuss valley she writes from Geschenen —
MOST EN3OYABLE SWISS TOUR. S7
Hurrah we are in a most exhilarated state of mind,
just like children; and, except a little undercurrent. of
general thanksgiving, we don't feel solemn at all, and have
been in the wildest spirits.
From Andermatt we took the diligence to the Furca
Pass. It is so early that, in some places, the road lay
between walls of snow. We were obliged to take a guide
up the Furca Horn, as there is no vestige of a track; the
Snow slopes were most entertaining to cross, and I
enjoyed the scramble excessively.
Going up the Aeggischhorn (she continues), an Alpine
Clubbist with the guide Fischer was before us, and he
afterwards told our guide, Alexander, that he watched us
from above, and that I “went up like a chamois l’ and
he was quite astonished how quickly I got up a difficult
climb; but I always had an instinct I should find myself
a rather extra good climber. The glissades down are
simply delicious.
BEL ALP, July 8. To-day has been the best of all
We secured Anton Walden for the Sparrenhorn, which is
nearly Io, ooo feet. Another lady, Miss Anstey, joined.
Coffee at 3.30, started before 4 a.m.
Now I have seen it at last, a real Alpine dawn and
sunrise to perfection | When we came out we saw the
“daffodil sky,” which Tyndall describes, in the east a
calm glory of expectant light as if something positively
celestial must come next, instead of merely the usual sun.
In the south-west the grand mountains stood, white and
perfectly clear, as if they might be waiting for the
resurrection, with the moon shining pale and radiant
over them, the deep Rhone valley dark and grave-like
in contrast below. As we got higher, the first rose flush
struck the Mischabel and Weisshorn, and Monte Leon
came to life too; it was real rose-fire, delicate yet intense.
The Weisshorn was in its full glory, looking more per-
fectly lovely than any earthly thing I ever saw. When the
tip of the Matterhorn caught the red light on its evil-
looking rocky peak, it was just like a volcano, and looked
88 MAE MOAC/A/S OA' F. R. H.
t
I'. Mº', ;
rather awful than lovely, giving one the idea of an evil
° angel impotently wrathful, shrinking away from the
Sérene glory and utter purity of a holy angel, which that
Weisshorn at dawn might represent if anything earthly
could. The eastern ridges were almost jet, in front of
the great golden glow into which the daffodil sky height-
ened. By 4.30 a.m. it was all over, and thenceforth we
devoted ourselves to getting up the Sparrenhorn.
After many other excursions they went down into the
Italian valleys,
July 28th. CourMAYEUR. I have been writ-
ing in a delicious den, under a rock, cool and shady, a
discovery of Elizabeth's. It commands a grand front of
Mont Blanc. We had a stiff climb to the shoulder of a
mountain whose Courmayeur face is a striking precipice.
There is a tolerable path up a gorge, leading to a ride
just below the cone of Mont Chétif. From this point
we had a face-to-face view of the most precipitous side
of Mont Blanc, with the ice fall of the Glacier de
Brevna. The summit of Mont Blanc was veiled, but I
think that added to the weird sublimity of the view.
One evening the English chaplain and Mrs. Phinn
asked us to come to tea, to meet Costabel the Vaudois
missionary pastor stationed here. This was very inter-
esting; he is a nice, simple, good man, and told us a
great deal about Vaudois work. Costabel is very isolated
here (but Mr. Phinn has quite taken him up), for he has
only a few poor Christian friends, and never any superior
society unless the English find him out. He told us that
the fear of death among the people here is awful, and
that he is frequently present at the most painful death
scenes. During life and health they leave everything to
the priest, and believe that he will make it all right for
them; and, except complying with certain forms, do not
think or trouble themselves about religion at all. Then,
when they are dying they get alarmed, and see that this
natural shifting of their religion upon another (the priest)

3 will not do; they lose confidence in him, and have no
TAZE VA UDO/S CHAPLA/M. 89
other; they want peace and have none; they would like
to feel assured, but they have no assurance; and they die
in agonies of terror. It was terrible to hear Costabel's
description of what he says is the rule as to Romish
deathbeds. “Unto the poor the gospel is preached,”
and he says it is so here. Qnly the poor will listen to
him, and those in the outlying villages where no priest
resides. We find the people here quite different from
; the Swiss, and not at all so ready to accept Gospels.
It is the first place where, on offering any, we have been
asked “whether it was a Protestant book;” however they
always end by taking them.
Mont Blanc is more than ever supreme to me; it is
quite strange what a difference in effect there is between
him and Monte Rosa, though this is second in height and
only 500 feet lower. Monte Rosa is quite disappointing
and unimposing; and, as there are four other mountains
round Zermatt very nearly as high, and seven or eight more
not much lower, there is nothing of this imperial supremacy
which makes Mont Blanc so unmistakable from anywhere.
I think that, either for strong or weak folk, Courmayeur
is the very best place I know of for making a long stay
at ; the walks and excursions are inexhaustible, there
are any amount of grand things to do for mountaineers,
and lovely little easy walks, as short as you like, for
mere invalids. Valleys and gorges fork and re-fork in
all directions. Another advantage is that it lies on a
gentle slope some little height above the noisy, foaming
* Dora, and so one has not the perpetual roar which I
always think the greatest drawback to Swiss enjoyment.
If the rivers would but go to sleep at night, what a relief
it would be I certainly have not been so well for
years, and except for some wakeful nights I should have
done the whole tour without flagging at all.
Saturday, 5.30 p.m. CHAPIU. We have got off at
last; it was not at all hopeful yesterday, and I began the
day rather anxiously (as I should really have been in
a fix if we could not have left till Monday), and there
90 MEAEORYA Y.S OF F. R. A.
was the clearest, most transparent, dawn sky imaginable;
not a cloud ; and a delicious north wind, which is an infal-
lible sign of first-rate weather. We got off exactly at five,
in great spirits, as the views must be first-rate on such a
morning, and the cool wind would make walking very
easy. As we passed our old hotel, we found a caravan of
about eighteen mules and nearly as many guides, as all the
Italians pensioning there were going up the Col de la
Seigne for the day. We hastened on, as we of course did
not want to be mixed up, and succeeded in keeping ahead
the whole way, five hours, though we were alternately on
foot and they all riding, and got to the top just before
them. We chose our spot to lunch, and they camped
at a little distance with many bows and “Bon appetits 1”
and other small foreign civilities, as they passed us.
When we had finished and were moving off, they shouted
to us to stay, and all rose and came to us offering us
wine and fruit, and saying they wished to propose a toast
and drink with us before we left. It was far too gracefully
done to refuse ; so red wine was poured, and all raised
a most cordial “Vive l’Angleterre P’ with great enthu-
siasm and clinking of glasses, to which we responded
with a “Viva l'Italia 1" which seemed to please them.
Then an old priest said, “Mesdemoiselles, étes vous
catholiques P Viva Roma P to which I replied in
Italian, “We can at least say, Viva Roma capitale d’
Italia /* which response he quite understood and said,
“Ah well, ah well, viva Christianity,” to which we of
course responded con amore. Then two or three more
(probably freethinkers, I'm afraid) said, “Oui bien, but
no more Popery,” and two or three similar exclama-
tions, at which we were very much astonished, as at least
three priests were in the party. Then we were allowed
to depart, with no end of hat wavings and good wishes.
We were so taken by surprise with the whole thing, and
all passed so quickly, and so many rapid exclamations
and vivas firing off in French and Italian, that I was
quite sorry afterwards that I had not recollected all quite
distinctly. It was such a curious little episode, and
*
CAE/RAS 7TMA.S DA Y. 91
occurring too at such a superb spot, and close to the
cross which marks the boundary and bears on one side
“France” and on the other “Italia.” We reached
Chapiu at two, having only been eight hours in actual
progress, as we stayed nearly an hour on the col, as we
hoped it might be possible to put on steam and get over
the Col de Bonhomme this afternoon, and thereby be
yet able to do Chamounix. But we found that, owing to
the great Snow, it would take five hours from Chapiu, and
that all on foot, as a mule could not go at all; so we were
obliged to give it up (though feeling quite equal to it), as
the guide said we could not do it before dark, and it would
not do to risk that. So we have put up here for Sunday,
at a funny little inn, many miles from any village.
It has been a glorious day, as clear as crystal, almost
too clear, as it rather takes from the sublimity, the sum-
mits look so near. We passed the Lac de Combat, an
exquisitely soft-tinted lake, pearly blue (but less intense
than Geneva), reflecting a grand and lovely group of
snow summits and ridges, more like a fairy fancy than a
reality in its unique loveliness. That lake was red in
Napoleon's days, and a wretched garrison was kept
freezing there four whole winters, guarding the pass at
the boundary. The ruins of their rough fortifications
are reflected in one corner, a melancholy contrast. The
col is 8450 feet high, but the ascent was unusually
gradual, and we were as fresh when we got to the top as
when we started. But then we had ignominiously
descended to having a mule between us: So it was only
two hours and a half walking for each. There is no post
at all here, but any chance guide or traveller takes letters
on to Bourg St. Maurice
We pass on to Christmas Day of this year, 1871; which
was spent at Leamington, and in connection with which
she writes to her old friend as follows:
(To E. C.)
tº 0 Christmas has as much of pain as of joy in it
92 MAZMORYALS OF F. A. H.
l
now, more perhaps, and yet one would not blot out the
memories which cause the pain. I have found this
second return home after my dear father's death fully
as trying as the first. . . . One or two pet schemes
are defeated ; but let me rather dwell on Christmas mer-
cies, and much that can infinitely satisfy one's cravings.
Subsequent ill health obliged Frances to give up much
pleasant work, and especially the training of the St. Paul’s
voluntary choir, which had been committed to her. But
(she writes) “when a disappointment comes in that way
it must be His appointment l”
(To M. W.)
º I am stopped in every attempt at consecutive
work. It has for years been special discipline to me,
because I am naturally fond of going through with a
thing, and have always had a strong yearning for definite
* Settled work. Yet I have never been permitted anything
but desultory work; either ailments or something beyond
my own control has always interfered ever since I was
about twenty. . . . Margaret, is it that He cannot
trust me with any work for Him, even after all these
years? I have been feeling very down, and I hope really
humbled; it seemed rather marked, His not letting me
write at all this year; and, now, taking away all work
from me seems another sentence of the same lesson.
I feel such a “cumberer,” every one doing more and
better than myself. Pray for me, that I may really learn
all He is teaching me. . . .
(To the same.)
I am always getting surprises at my own stupidity
Why could not I have seen that lovely trio of texts P
This only confirms my strong belief that if I am to write
J to any good, a great deal of living must go to a very
little writing, and that this is why I have always been
held back from writing a tithe of what I wanted to write;
and I see the wisdom of it.
CHA P T E R V III,
(1872–1874.)
“The Right Way”—Snowdon—Evenings at Harlech — Jesus our
Reality — Switzerland once more — Ascent to the Grands
Mulets—Glissade peril and escape—Active service—Winter-
dyne — Bright sunshine — Full surrender — 1 John i. 7 —
Definitive standpoint—Chimes in the night of “Ever, only,
all for Thee” — No cheque — Songs, not sighs — How
“Golden harps,” “Tell it out," etc., came—Wayside enjoy.
ments.
N the summer of 1872 we enjoyed a few weeks' tour
together in North Wales, the change being desirable
for my dear sister, who immediately recovered her
health and buoyancy. She writes from Barmouth, July
6, 1872 :
DFAR G–,
Surely “The Right Way” will be the shining inscription
on every Christian's home path at last; all will be alike
in this one thing, however diverse in all else. . . .
We have been two nights at Dolgelly; it is lovely, and
so different in character, that it no more suffers after
Switzerland than a forget-me-not beside a rose. . . .
My sister has the scent of a Red Indian for good old
widow women and people needing consolation. . . .
o P.S.—Isaiah xlviii. 17 : do suck all the honey out of
this full and sweet text.
(To E. C.)
PEN-y-GURYD, July 16.
º . It seems very natural to scribble to you, after
99
94 MEMORAAES OF F. R. E.
º
our Swiss experiences last summer. I leave circulars and
generalities to Maria. I see by my little register that I
have received above 6oo letters between January and
July 1st. It would be impossible, unless you were with
me day by day, to give you a notion of the unaccountable
variety of things that people will persist in writing to me
about. tº
I think Wales will put me out of conceit of Switzer-
land One gets so very much beauty and enjoyment
with so much less expense or fatigue. This year, too, I
had such a craving for rest rather than for exertion, that
our plan suits me far better. I intensely enjoyed the
feeling of rest and leisure at Harlech, without having
to “do” any places next day or next I am glad you
were at the Mildmay Conference. I did so want to go,
but dear mother so strongly advised me not that I thought
it clear duty to refrain. I think the very thing which
would be pleasure and help to you, would be a serious
spiritual drawback to me, meeting those you know or
could speak to. The human element, however delightful,
would distract and hinder me from meeting “Jesus only.”
How all these differences of need and desire will be
overflowed in the glorious assembly above I do like
to think of that. I prayed that Wales might be my
conference, and that I might not miss a blessing; and in
some degree it has been answered, for I have been rather
specially happy. I seemed to have arrears of prayer,
things I wanted as it were to talk over and talk out with
God, and especially the three last evenings at Harlech,
when I went out alone for the purpose; I found two or
three hours none too long for uninterrupted communion of
this kind. --
I am finishing this at the top of Snowdon; the ascents
are all so easy; no need of ponies or guides when we
can walk twelve to fifteen miles. We shall run down
from this the Llanberis side, and camp for a week, half
way down, with one of my sister's charming old women.
I have had such interesting openings for work the
last few weeks, some only beginnings, others I trust real
3.
SAVO WDOAV. 95
conversions; I tell my sister what I could not write. So
He gives us different work to do, but all His work.
We must return from Wales to be present at the wedding
of my dear niece, Miriam Crane, the end of July.
From Moel Siabod we had series of glimpses of the
sunny world below, and magnificent veilings and un-
veilings of . Snowdon, soft white wreaths folding and
unfolding among the massive heights. In Llyn Dinas
I saw an effect quite new to me. The Slanting sunlight
took the ripples at just such an angle that an exquisite
gold network, waving and gleaming upon the dark brown
stones, was produced, in some places concentrating
like a golden web, in others like open trellis work.
The harmony of colour, the rich warm brown of the
stones with the intense gold, was not a combination we
should have struck out. My favourite mountain verse
is : “Unto Thee, O Lord, do we give thanks, for that
Thy name is near Thy wondrous works declare.”
Thoughts from various Zetters, 1873.
“How I should like to be with you now it would
be so nice to throw one little flower among your thorns.
However, I think He would send me, impossible as it
seems, if really best ; so, as I am not sent, I know it is
better so.”
“So your fiery trial is still unextinguished. But what
if it be but His beacon light on your upward path !”
“This is bitter desolation for you, so I send you ‘I
will not leave you comfortless.’ It was a greater loss
than any, which the disciples were to endure, His own
personal presence withdrawn. Can He have changed
since He spoke those loving words P What a test of
the disciples' faith ! What could make up for this
greatest loss of all? How could He go away, and yet
not leave them comfortless P You are called now to the
same sort of trial of faith; can you not trust the truth
and love of the Master who sends it? And then ‘I will
96 MEMORIAA.S OF A. R. F.
come to you.’ You know something of how He can
‘come,’ but do you think you have reached the end
of His gracious comings P”
“It is a question whether a really thoughtful mind
could possibly yield the homage of its entire being to a
God whom it could understand and fathom, The
instinct of such a mind would revolt from it.”
“‘As for thee, the Lord thy God has not suffered
thee to do so.” What a stepping stone ! We give
thanks, often with a tearful doubtful voice, for our
spiritual mercies positive, but what an almost infinite
field there is for mercies negative | We cannot even
imagine all that God has suffered us not to do, not to be.”
“. . . Did you ever hear of any one being vely
much used for Christ who did not have some special
waiting time, some complete upset of all his or her plans
first; from St. Paul's being sent off into the desert of
Arabia for three years, when he must have been boiling
over with the glad tidings, down to the present day ?
You were looking forward to tell about trusting Jesus in
Syria; now He says, “I want you to show what it is to
trust Me, without waiting for Syria.' Even if you never
say one word, it will be seen your trust is a reality,
because Jesus is a Reality.
“My own case is far less severe, but the same in
principle, that when I thought the door was flung open
for me to go with a bound into literary work, it is
opposed, and doctor steps in and says simply ‘Never !
She must choose between writing and living, she can’t do
both.” That was in 1860. Then I came out of the shell
with ‘Ministry of Song,’ in 1869, and saw the evident wis-
dom of having been kept nine years waiting in the shade.
“God’s love being unchangeable, He is just as
living when we do not see or feel His love. Also His
sovereignty and His love are co-equal and universal ;
so He withholds the enjoyment and conscious progress,
because He knows best what will really ripen and
further His work in us.”
SWYZZERA.4 WD OAVCAE MORE, 97
“‘Ye shall be gathered one by one, O ye children
of Israel' (Isa. xxvii. 12). Hence, individual love and
care, personal calling and guidance. Yet this is only for
the wilderness journey, for the ‘one by one’ will
blossom at last into a grand answer to His prayer,
‘that they all may be one,’ no longer ‘one by one.’”
“Tired, disappointed, and depressed, I thought of
Matthew xi. 28, ‘Come unto Me all ye that labour,” but
felt quite tantalized at it because “labour’ did not
apply to me. I took up my Greek Testament and
Lexicon, and to my delight saw that the very same
word is used in John iv. 6, “Jesus therefore being
wearied.’ Just human, natural, physical fatigue ! So I
didn't see why I should not take the comfort of it, and
I did not trouble to think, but He let the words rest me
altogether.”
In the summer of 1873 Frances accompanied her
friends Mr. and Mrs. Snepp and their daughter Emily to
Switzerland.
She describes her ascent to the Grands Mulets on
Mont Blanc, arriving at its desolate rocks in the midst of
an ocean of Snow.
We had some lovely effects, such as I had never seen
before, in passing the colossal ice blocks on the shady
side, the sun behind them touching the edges with a sort
of transparent aureole, and shining through a glittering
drip from the overhanging ones.
On their descent from Mont Blanc, Frances' delight in
glissading led to most perilous and imminent danger, from
which Mr. Snepp's instantaneous presence of mind saved
her life and also the life of one of the guides. She writes:
They would not unrope me; when we got to Pierre
à l'Echelle, I was so enjoying my glissades, and pre-
sently thought we were come to a sufficiently easy part
to go carelessly, whereupon I slipped, and Payot the
G
98 MŽMORIAA.S OF F. R. Af.
guide, who was next to me, totally lost himself too.
Below us was a dark abyss ; we both started a decidedly
too rapid spin down a very steep incline to sheer pre-
cipice below; when, instantaneously, Mr. S. did the only
possible thing which could have saved all four of us,
flung himself right on his back with his heels in the
snow, the orthodox thing to do if only any one has the
presence of mind to do it. Thus he was enabled to
bear the immense strain on the rope, and check our im-
petus; thank God, we soon recovered our footing,
After this I was unroped, which I greatly prefer; it is so
hampering, and had some splendid glissades alone, and
we returned to Chamounix in two hours less than the
regulation time.
Returning from Switzerland to Oakhampton, our dear
mother being at the seaside, Frances at once began
most diligent work. Her active service had no intervals
of dreamy enjoyment; but cottage visitations, and four
Bible classes weekly, attended with unwearied exertions,
at last culminated in crowded attendances in the servant's
hall. Soon after this, she assisted in preparatory work
for a Mission at Bewdley. With the late Vicar's consent,
the Rev. G. Everard had promised to come; but the fever
in his family and the death of his dear children frustrated
this arrangement, and the Rev. C. B. Snepp undertook
all the services. My sister, though very fragile, gave
much help in the choir and other opportunities for work.
The family at Winterdyne will ever have reason to
thank God for Frances’ visit, though no words here may
tell of its lasting influence and blessed results.
During a Mission Week at Liverpool she was again
at work.
(To Margaret W.)
ECCLESTON HALL, October 23, 1873.
To think of my actually being here ! J is so good
THE WAAV7 SA TYSEAZA). 99
to me, nursing me after my Liverpool work, which rather
used me up. I had a young women's meeting on Wednes-
day, was at work all Thursday morning, and intended to
make sure of an hour's very needful rest and preparation
for my hymn meeting, when some callers came who had,
I trust, really got a blessing the night before. I am hardly
as much used up as I feared, after five days' incessant
work, but it is long since I had any real rest. . . .
I have just been writing my request for praise. What
can I do? I can’t curtail it ! Oh, how I wish I could
have come over to your praise meeting, and just tried to
tell you all how gracious, and faithful, and near, God has
been all this summer | If I kept a diary it would be just
a record of answers to prayer, and such great ones too !
I wish you would tell the members of the Y. W. C. A.,
because they would be encouraged to hear how wonder-
fully God has answered one of their members, and He
is the same God, rich to all that call upon Him. .
We now reach a period in the life of dear Frances
that was characterized by surpassing blessing to her soul.
The year 1873 was drawing to a close, and she was
again visiting at Winterdyne. One day she received in a
letter from N a tiny book with the title “All for
Jesus !” She read it carefully. Its contents arrested
her attention. It set forth a fulness of Christian
experience and blessing exceeding that to which she had
as yet attained. She was gratefully conscious of having
for many years loved the Lord and delighted in His
service; but her experience was not up to the standard of
full consecration and spiritual power, or of uniform
brightness and continuous enjoyment in the Divine life.
“All for Jesus” she found went straight to this point of
the need and longing of her soul. Writing in reply to
the author of the little book, she said: “I do so long for
* “All for Jesus !” S. W. Partridge & Co,
gº.
* * *
*s
…
IOO AMEMOA IA LS OF F. R. F.
!.
deeper and fuller teaching in my own heart. “All for
Jesus' has touched me very much. . . . I know I
love Jesus, and there are times when I feel such intensity
of love to Him that I have not words to describe it. I
rejoice, too, in Him as my ‘Master’ and ‘Sovereign,'
but I want to come nearer still, to have the full realization
of John xiv. 21, and to know ‘the power of His resurrec-
tion,” even if it be with the fellowship of His sufferings.
And all this, not exactly for my own joy alone, but for
others. . . . So I want Jesus to speak to me, to say
‘many things’ to me, that I may speak for Him to others
with real power. It is not knowing doctrine, but being
with Him, which will give this.” sº
God did not leave her long in this state of mind. He
Himself had shown her that there were “regions beyond”
of blessed experience and service; had kindled in her
very soul the intense desire to go forward and possess
them ; and now, in His own grace and love, He took her
by the hand, and led her into the goodly land. A few
words from her correspondent on the power of Jesus to
keep those who abide in Him from falling, and on the
continually present power of His blood (“the blood of
Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin,”) were
used by the Master in effecting this, Very joyously she
replied: “I see it all, and I HAVE the blessing.”
The “sunless ravines” were now for ever passed, and
henceforth her peace and joy flowed onwards, deepening
and widening under the teaching of God the Holy Ghost.
The blessing she had received had (to use her own words)
“lifted her whole life into sunshine, of which all she had
previously experienced was but as pale and passing April
gleams, compared with the fulness of summer glory.”
**º-º-º:
* I John i. 7.
7"AAA. HZGAZWA W OF ANOLAVES.S. IOI
The practical effect of this was most evident in her
daily, true-hearted, whole-hearted service for her King,
and also in the increased joyousness of the unswerving
obedience of her home life, the surest test of all.
To the reality of this, I do most willingly and fully
testify. Some time afterwards, in answer to my question,
when we were talking quietly together, Frances said:
“Yes, it was on Advent Sunday, December 2nd, 1873, I
first saw clearly the blessedness of true consecration. I
saw it as a flash of electric light, and what you see you
can never unsee. There must be full surrender before
there can be full blessedness. God admits you by the
one into the other. He Himself showed me all this
most clearly. You know how singularly I have been
withheld from attending all conventions and conferences;
man's teaching has, consequently, had but little to do
with it. First, I was shown that ‘the blood of Jesus
Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin,” and then it was
made plain to me that He who had thus cleansed me
had power to keep me clean ; so I just utterly yielded
myself to Him, and utterly trusted Him to keep me.”
I replied that “it seemed to me, if we did thus yield
ourselves to the Lord, we could not take ourselves back
again, any more than the Levitical sacrifices, once
accepted by the priest, were returned by him to the
offerer.”
“Yes,” she rejoined, “just so. Still, I see there can
be the renewal of the surrender, as in our Communion
Service, where we say: ‘And here we offer and present
unto Thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies.’
And there may also be a fuller surrender, even long after
a surrender has once, or many times before, been made.
And then as to sanctification: that it is the work of the
Holy Spirit, and progressive, is the very thing I see and
IC3 MeMozzazs or F. R. A.
rejoice in, . He has brought me into the ‘highway of
holiness,' up which I trust every day to progress, con-
tinually pressing forward, led by the Spirit of God. And
I do indeed find that with it comes a happy trusting, not
only in all great matters, but in all the little things also, so
that I cannot say ‘so and so worries me.”
Some months afterwards I received the following letter
on the same subject:
DEAREST MARIA, -
ſº Certainly your letters have filled me with
gladness and thanksgiving. Loving thanks to Mr. Shaw
for his message. . . .
I have long wanted to explain to you and others in
writing (which is easier to me to be clear in, than in con-
versation, with its natural interruptions) what I see as to
the subject which to me was undoubtedly the portal into
a happy life. As to “perfectionism” or “sinlessness,”
‘I have all alóng, and over and over again, said I nevel
did, and do not, hold either. “Sinlessness” belongs only
to Christ now, and to our glorified state in heaven. I
believe it to be not merely an impossibility on earth, but
an actual contradiction of our very being, which cannot
be “sinless” till the resurrection change has passed upon
us. But being kept from falling, kept from sins, is quite
another thing, and the Bible seems to teem with com-
mands and promises about it. First, however, I would
distinctly state, that it is only as and while a soul is under
the full power of the blood of Christ that it can be
cleansed from all sin; that one moment's withdrawal
from that power, and it is again actively because really
sinning; and that it is only as, and while, kept by the
power of God Himself that we are not sinning *
Him; one instant of standing alone is certain fall ! But
(premising that) have we not been limiting the cleansing
power of the precious blood when applied by the Holy
Spirit, and also the keeping power of our God? . Have
we not been limiting I John i. 7, by practically making it

*
&
F.YPL4 AVA TORY ZE 7'7"E.R. Ro3
refer only to “the remission of sins that are past,”
instead of taking the grand simplicity of “cleanseth us
from all sin?” “All” is all; and as we may trust
Him to cleanse from the stain of past sins, so we may
trust Him to cleanse from all present defilement; yes, all /
If not, we take away from this most precious promise,
and, by refusing to take it in its fulness, lose the fulness
of its application and power. (Then we limit God's power
to “keep ;” we look at our frailty more than at His omni-
potence, ) Where is the line to be drawn, beyond which
He is not “able?” The very keeping implies total help-
lessness without it, and the very cleansing most distinctly
implies defilement without it. It was that one word
“cleanseth” which opened the door of a very glory of
hope and joy to me. I had never seen the force of the
tense before, a continual present, always a present tense,
not a present which the next moment becomes a past.
It goes on cleansing, and I have no words to tell how my
heart rejoices in it. Not a coming to be cleansed in the
fountain only, but a remaining in the fountain, so that it
may and can go on cleansing,
Why should we pare down the commands and pro-
mises of God to the level of what we have hitherto
experienced of what God is “able to do,” or even of
what we have thought He might be able to do for us?
Why not receive God's promises, nothing doubting, just
as they stand? “Take the shield of faith, whereby ye
shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked;”
“He is able to make all grace abound toward you, that
ye, always having all sufficiency in all things;” and so
on, through whole constellations of promises, which surely
mean really and fully what they say.
One arrives at the same thing, starting almost from any-
where. Take Philippians iv. 19, “your need;” well,
what is my great need and craving of soul? Surely it is
now (having been justified by faith, and having assurance
of salvation) to be made holy by the continual sanctifying
power of God's Spirit; to be kept from grieving the Lord
Jesus; to be kept from thinking or doing whatever is not
I C4 MEMORYA LS OF F. R. H.
.”
accordant with His holy will. Oh what a need is this
And it is said, “He shall supply all need;” now, shall
we turn round and say “all” does not mean quite all P
Both as to the commands and the promises, it seems to
me that anything short of believing them as they stand is
but another form of “yea, hath God said P”
Thus accepting, in simple and unquestioning faith,
God’s commands and promises, one seems to be at once
brought into intensified views of everything. Never, oh
never before, did sin seem so hateful, so really “intoler-
able,” nor watchfulness so necessary, and a keenness and
uninterruptedness of watchfulness too, beyond what one
ever thought of, only somehow different, not a distressed
sort but a happy sort. It is the watchfulness of a
sentinel when his captain is standing by him on the
ramparts, when his eye is more than ever on the alert for
any sign of the approaching enemy, because he knows
they can only approach to be defeated. Then, too, the
“all for Jesus” comes in ; one sees there is no half-way,
it must be absolutely all yielded up, because the least
unyielded or doubtful point is sin, let alone the great
fact of owing all to Him. And one cannot, dare not,
temporize with sin. I know, and have found, that even
a momentary hesitation about yielding, or obeying, or
trusting and believing, vitiates all, the communion is
broken, the joy vanished; only, thank God, this never
need continue even five minutes, faith may plunge
instantly into “the fountain open for sin and unclean-
ness,” and again find its power to cleanse and restore.
ſº one wants to have more and more light; one does
shrink from painful discoveries of evil, because one so
º to have the unknown depths of it cleansed as well
*------~~
what comes to the surface. “Cleanse me throughly
from my sin;” and one prays to be shown this. But so
far as one does see, one must “put away sin” and obey
entirely; and here again His power is our resource,
enabling us to do what without it we could not do.
One of the intensest moments of my life was when I
saw the force of that word “cleanseth.” The utterly un-
AEXPZAAWA 7TOR P ZAZ 77A2 R. Io;
expected and altogether unimagined sense of its fulfilment
to me, on simply believing it in its fulness, was just in-
describable. I expected nothing like it short of heaven.
I am so thankful that, in the whole matter, there was as
little human instrumentality as well could be, for certainly
two sentences in letters from a total stranger were little.
I say only two sentences, for nothing else seemed to
make much difference to me; all the rest was, I am sure,
God's own direct teaching. And you know I had read
no books and attended no meetings or conferences ! I
am so conscious of His direct teaching and guidance,
through His word and Spirit, in the matter that I cannot
think I can ever unsee it again. I have waited many
months before writing this, so it is no new and untested
theory to me; in fact, experience came before theory, and
is more to me than any theory. But, understand me, it
is “not as though I had already attained, either were
already perfect; but I follow after, I press toward the
mark, for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ
Jesus.”
Frances wrote to her friend J E.
I send you my own New Year's motto and message.
It is a wonderful word, “from glory unto glory.” May
we more and more claim and realize all that is folded up
in it. I know you have prayed for me, so I must tell
you that your prayers are answered. 1873 has been a
year of unprecedented blessing to me. I think you will
see this in “From Glory unto Glory.” So now will you
join me in praise. is
This hymn was written at Winterdyne, and Mr. Shaw
well remembers Frances bringing it and reading it to him,
saying, “There ! I could not have written this before.”
And as she stood, even in the twilight, the sunny radiance
of her countenance was sealing her words:
“The fulness of His blessing encompasseth our way;
The fulness of His promises crowns every brightening
day; -
foë A/EMORIA LS OF F. R. E.
*.
i.
The fulness of His glory is beaming from above,
While more and more we realize the fulness of His
love.”
Every visit seemed now to open doors for her loving
words, and she longed for whole households to taste with
her of the goodness of the Lord. One extract must be
as it were a glimpse of many others.
Perhaps you will be interested to know the origin of
the consecration hymn, “Take my life.” I went for
a little visit of five days. There were ten persons in the
house, some unconverted and long prayed for, some
converted but not rejoicing Christians. He gave me the
prayer, “Lord, give me all in this house !” And He just
did / Before I left the house every one had got a bless-
ing. The last night of my visit I was too happy to sleep,
and passed most of the night in praise and renewal of
my own consecration, and these little couplets formed
themselves and chimed in my heart one after another,
till they finished with, “Fwer, only, ALL for Thee I’”
The beautiful couplet in the same hymn,
“Take my voice, and let me sing,
Always, only for my King,”
was thenceforth (from December 1873) really carried out.
She writes:
Let us sing words which we feel and love, sacrificing
everything to clearness of enunciation, and looking up
to meet His smile all the while we are singing; our
* songs will reach more hearts than those of finer voices
and more brilliant execution, unaccompanied by His
power. A Sacred song thus sung often gives a higher
tone to the evening, and affords, both to singer and
listeners, some opportunity of speaking a word for Jesus.
tº ſº tº I was at a large regular London party
lately, and I was so happy. He seemed to give me “the
secret of His presence,” and of course I sang “for Jesus,”
and did not I have dead silence P Afterwards I had two
's
{}
Avoz' A FEAR, or DoDBT, or CARE, Ioy
really important conversations with strangers; one seemed
extremely surprised at finding himself quite easily drifted
from the badinage with which he started into a right-
down personal talk about his personal danger and his
only hope for safety; he took it very well, and thanked
me. Perhaps that seed may bear fruit. Somehow it is
wonderful how the Master manages for me in such cases.
I don’t think any one can say I force the subject; it just
all develops one thing out of another, quite naturally,
till very soon they find themselves face to face with
eternal things, and the Lord Jesus can be freely “lifted
up” before them. I could not contrive a conversation
thus.
And the following letter gives another reference to the
reality of her experience.
January 26, 1874.
DEAR MR. S.––,
I have just had such a blessing in the shape of
what would have been only two months ago a really
bitter blow to me; and now it is actual accession of joy,
because I find that it does not even touch me ! I was
expecting a letter from America, enclosing 435 now
due to me, and possibly news that “ Bruey” was going
on like steam, and “Under the Surface” pressingly
wanted. The letter has come, and, instead of all this,
my publisher has failed in the universal crash. He holds
my written promise to publish only with him as the con-
dition of his launching me; so this is not simply a little
loss, but an end of all my American prospects of either
cash, influence, or fame, at any rate for a long time to
come. I really had not expected that He would do for
me so much above all I asked, as not merely to help me
to acquiesce in this, but positively not to feel it at all,
and only to rejoice in it as a clear test of the reality of
victorious faith which I do find brightening almost
daily. Two months ago this would have been a real
trial to me, for I had built a good deal on my American
prospects, now “Thy will be done” is not a sigh but only
IO8 MEMORAA LS OF F. R. A.
a song / I think if it had been all my English footing,
present and prospective, as well as the American, that I
thus found suddenly gone, it would have been worth it,
for the joy it has been to find my Lord so faithful and
true to all His promises. With regard to many of the
promises, there seems no room for even the exercise of
faith. It is not that I believe or grasp them, but that I
find them all come true as I never did before. The
sense of His unutterable lovingkindness to me is simply
overwhelming. . . . Several times lately I have felt
literally overwhelmed and overpowered with the realiza-
, tion of God's unspeakable goodness to me. I say it
° deliberately, and with thankfulness and joy for which I
have no words. I have not a fear, or a doubt, or a care,
or a shadow upon the sunshine of my heart. Every day
brings some quite new cause for thankfulness; only
to-day He has given me such a victory as I never had
before, in a very strong temptation; He lifted me above
it in a way I never experienced yet. -
Two months afterwards she writes:
March 19, 1874.
DEAR MR. W 3.
• * I can never set myself to write verse. I
believe my King suggests a thought and whispers me a
musical line or two, and then I look up and thank
Him delightedly, and go on with it. That is how the
hymns and poems come. Just now there is silence. I
have not had the least stir of music in my mind since
I wrote that tiny consecration hymn, a most unusually
long interval; and till He sends it there will be none. I
am always ready to welcome it and work it when it
comes but I never press for it,
And the following letter confirms this statement:
DEAR MR. W-,
I can't make you quite understand me! You say
“F. R. H. could do ‘satisfied’ grandly " Mo, she
couldn't Not unless He gave it me line by line
HYMN MEMORAAWDA. Io9
gººmssº-sº-m->ss
That is how verses come. The Master has not put a
chest of poetic gold into my possession and said, “Now use
& it as you like l’ But He keeps the gold, and gives it me .
piece by piece just when He will and as much as He
will, and no more. Some day perhaps He will send me
a bright line of verse on “Satisfied” ringing through my
mind, and then I shall look up and thank Him, and say,
“Now, dear Master, give me another to rhyme with it,
and then another;” and then perhaps He will send it all
in one flow of musical thoughts, but more likely one at a
time, that I may be kept asking Him for every line. There,
that is the process, and you see there is no “I can do
it” at all. That isn't His way with me. I often smile
to myself when people talk about “gifted pen” or
“clever verses,” etc.; because they don’t know that it is
-neither, but something really much nicer than being
“ talented” or “clever.”
Nearly every poem would verify the above. Some
instances are given. When visiting at Perry Barr she
walked to the boy's schoolroom, and being very tired she
leaned against the playground wall while Mr. Snepp went
in. Returning in ten minutes, he found her scribbling
on an old envelope, and at his request she handed him
the hymn just pencilled, “Golden harps are sounding.”
In my dear sister's copy of the “Ministry of Song”
she has written particulars which may be interesting, in
connection with others of her well-known hymns.
“This same Jesus” is founded on a recollection of
one sentence in a sermon of my father's, at St. Nicholas,
which struck me most vividly and happily. I shall not
forget the thrill which went through me when he said,
“it will be “this same Jesus.” It also developed a much
earlier impression of the same kind in 1851. “This
same Jesus” is one of the chief watchwords of my faith.
I constantly recur to it, and I think it will be my comfort
I HO MEMORALS OF F. R. A.
in the dark valley. I wrote the lines at Oakhampton,
one Sunday, when detained from church by a slight
accident, and gave them to my niece Miriam.
“Daily Strength.” The New Year's bells were ring-
ing (1859), when Maria awoke me to hear them, and
quoted to me the text, “As thy days, so shall thy strength
be,” as a New Year's motto. I did not answer, but
presently returned it to her in rhyme. She was pleased;
so the next day I wrote it in her album.
“Making Poetry” was suggested by a nice little girl,
Charlotte Kirke, who was spending her holidays in
Wales, when I was there in 1863. She made some
really pretty little quatrains, and repeated one, about a
daisy, to me sitting on the window seat. She called it
“making poetry,” as children always do.
“Adoration” (“O Master, at Thy feet I bow in rapture
sweet”) was written on December 31, 1866. I felt that
I had not written anything specially in praise to Christ;
a strong longing to do so possessed me. I wanted to
show forth His praise to Him, not to others; even if no
mortal ever saw it, He would see every line, would know
the unwritten longing to praise Him, even if words failed
utterly. It describes, as most of my poems do, rather
reminiscence than present feeling.
“O Master 1" It is perhaps my favourite title, because
it implies rule and submission; and this is what love
craves. Men may feel differently, but a true woman's
submission is inseparable from deep love. I wrote it in
the cold and twilight in a little back room at Shareshill
Parsonage.
As I began my book (“Ministry of Song”) with the
expression of its devotion to God’s glory, I wished to
close it with a distinctive ascription of praise to the Lord
©
AMORA. OPAEAW DOORS. I I I
Jesus, and therefore at once decided to place “Adora-
tion” at the close.
Her missionary hymn “Tell it out among the heathen”
was written at Winterdyne, when unable to go to church
one snowy Sunday morning. She asked for her Prayer-
Book (in bed), always liking to follow the services for
the day. On Mr. Shaw's return from church, he heard
her touch on the piano. “Why, Frances, I thought you
were upstairs I” “Yes; but I had my Prayer-Book, and
in the Psalms for to-day I read “Tell it out among the
heathen that the Lord is King.’ I thought, what a
splendid first line ! and then words and music came
rushing in to me. There it's all written out.” With
copperplate neatness she had rapidly written out the
words, music and harmonies complete.
Only those who heard her could imagine the brisk
ringing time with which she sang this tune. It distressed
her when told how slowly and drowsily it was sometimes
given.
Further extracts from the correspondence of the period
will close the present chapter.
MY DEAREST G–,
I am waiting for the carriage to take me back to Oak-
hampton, having been spending a few hours in Worcester,
and seeing some old parishioners of years ago, who re-
collect me as “little Miss Fanny.” . . . The last
two days I have been very busy, having spent the whole
day before at Winterdyne, and even a day always throws
me behind in letters, etc. I meant to rest here, but
somehow there always seems to be too much to do.
Such a very nice “open door” is set before me that I
cannot but enter in, and so I have four different Bible
classes a week 1 besides which, as many cottagers as I
can possibly visit are grateful for reading. Yesterday
I I2 Aſ EMORYALS OF F. R. A.
~ ;
Ç
evening I had a “farmers' daughters” class; twelve
came, but I think a few more will join. I enjoyed it
extremely, was frightened and nervous beforehand, and
unavoidable visitors detained and distracted me up to
the last minute, which seemed most unfortunate, but
probably cast me all the more upon Jesus and His
strength. . . . Dear G , will you pray for my
little work here? I do think that in each of my classes
here there is something going on, and a most earnest
spirit of attention among the servants. And will you ask
that I may be kept near to Jesus.
I have brought you a crystal and amethyst locket from
Geneva. . . . They told me it was a quite new
device, but somehow the novelty did not weigh with me
in choosing for you, so much as the suggestiveness of the
stones; the very words “crystal and amethyst” are like
a far gleam from the heavenly city.
I have been thinking much lately of the Lord's loving
kindness in giving us so much wayside enjoyment, and
so much present reward in all our work for him. In
spite of dark life enigmas, and real and heavy trials, and
often keen inner conflict, not to mention daily burdens
of weariness or anxiety or worry, we can set to our seal
that “His ways are ways of pleasantness.” For, over and
above the great gifts, the “blessed hope” set before us,
and the quiet “peace with God through our Lord Jesus
Christ,” what numbers of bits and drops of pleasure and
delight one gets, which simply would not exist for us if
we were not His children. Just look at Christian inter-
course, the meetings without any cloud of suspicion or
doubt of each other, the consciousness of true sweet
sympathy, the thrill that one does feel when His beloved
name is named ; all this, even with Christian acquaint-
ances, is a great deal more than all the pleasure or good
to be got out of any worldly intimacy or friendship so
called. I want to hand over to you what I have been
enjoying very much this week, a simple thought enough,
Wut so nice. Dr. Candlish gives (in his beautiful book
“A-EZZO WSAVA.” - I 13
on the First Epistle of St. John) as one of the proofs of
“fellowship with the Father,” etc., our sympathy of aim,
His cause being our cause, His kingdom and its advance-
ment our interest, what interests Him interests us, and
so on. This seemed at once to transfigure all one's
daily life, and poor little small efforts to speak or write
or work for God, and to éxalt it into “fellowship.” I
cannot convey to you how much I enjoyed it, and what
a bright reality and force it gave to the words “TRULY
our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Jesus
Christ.” I like to think how impossible it would be to
untwine Christ and the things of Christ from our life,
inner and outer; when one comes to think about it He
is so really and truly interwoven with our life that one
seems to feel the “no separation” not merely as a grand
promise, but an actuality which cannot be otherwise.
H
's
C H A P T E R IX,
(1874.)
Circular letters — Sunset on the Faulhorn—Ormont Dessus—
Interruptions to poems—Other work done—“Little Pillows,”
etc. — Swiss singing — That great transfer — A musical
reverie—Return to England—Bright work and results.
E give extracts from F. R. H.'s circular letters on
her journey to Switzerland in 1874, with her
niece Constance Crane, other friends (Elizabeth, Mar-
garet, and Bessie) joining in their mountain excursions.
“Sunset on the Faulhorn 1” All day there had been
strange rifts in the clouds, and sudden pictures of peaks
or of abysses framed in white and grey; but towards
seven o'clock the wind rose, and there was a grand outpour
of colour upon everything, sky, clouds, and mountains.
Imagine yourself midway between heaven and earth,
the sharp point of rock on which we stood hardly seem-
ing more of earth than if we had been in a balloon, the
whole space around, above, and below filled with wild,
weird, spectral clouds, driving and whirling in incessant
change and with tremendous rapidity; horizon none, but
every part of where horizon should be, crowded with un-
imaginable shapes of unimagined colours, with rifts of
every shade of blue, from indigo to pearl, and burning
with every tint of fire, from gold to intensest red; shafts
of keen light shot down into abysses of purple thousands
of feet below, enormous surging masses of grey hurled
up from beneath, and changing in an instant to glorified
brightness of fire as they seemed on the point of swallow-
114
SC/NSE 7" WOAZO EA’.S. 115
ing up the shining masses above them ; then, all in an
instant, a wild grey shroud flung over us, as swiftly pass-
ing and leaving us in a blaze of Sunshine: then a bursting
open of the very heavens, and a vision of what might be
celestial heights, pure and still and shining, high above
it all; then, an instantaneous cleft in another wild cloud,
and a revelation of a perfect paradise of golden and rosy
slopes and summits; then, quick gleams of white peaks
through veilings and unveilings of flying semi-transparent
clouds; then, as quickly as the eye could follow, a rim
of dazzling light running round the edges of a black
castle of cloud, and flaming windows suddenly pierced
in it; oh, mother dear, I might go on for sheets, for it
was never twice the same, nor any single minute the
same, in any one direction. At one juncture a cloud
stood still, apparently about 200 yards off, and we each
saw our own shadows gigantically reflected on it, sur-
rounded by a complete rainbow arch, but a full circle of
bright prismatic colours, a transfiguration of our shadows
almost startling, each moreover seeing only their own
glorification | When the whole pageant, lasting nearly
an hour, was past, we sang “Abide with me,” and then
the dear old joyous “Glory to Thee, my God.”
ORMONT DESSUs, September.
This second month of my Swiss journey is altogether
different from the first, for now I am making writing the
first thing instead of idleness. I am doing it quite in
moderation, and taking plenty of fresh air as well; one
can be out half the day and yet get four or five good
hours' writing as well, under these circumstances, when
there are no other calls upon time or strength whatever;
and this combination of work and leisure is very delightful.
Besides, I feel as if I had got quite a fresh start with that
month's rest; it seems as if nature had then walked into
my brain and taken possession (turning me out mean-
while), and given it a kind of spring cleaning 1 rubbing
up the furniture, and fresh papering some of the rooms,
1 : é AfEA/OA-AA D.S OF F. R. H.
and cleaning the windows 1 That perpetual “moving
on,” which some so delight in, does not suit me nearly
So well as staying in a place and taking it easy. The
weather has been so much colder and more variable,
since I changed my tactics, that the two things coincided
beautifully; for, except two days, it has been too cold the
last fortnight for any sitting out of doors.
I don't know why I always seem to shrink from writing
much, or even anything, of the “under the surface”
life (which is so much more than the “on the surface”
and the mere surroundings), in my circulars. They would
be much fuller if I told one tithe of the hourly bits of
gentle guidance and clear lovingkindness which make the
real enjoyment, or of the perpetual little opportunities of
a “word for Jesus” which He seems to give me, and
often of real work for Him, which yet seems to come so
unsought, so easily and naturally, so altogether without
any effort, as to be not felt to be any working at all.
Now I will give you an instance of how He took me at
my word the other day. It was one of the few warm
days, and I established myself with pen and ink in a
shady nook by a little, steep, down-hill torrent. I had
suddenly got that sort of strong impulse to write on a
certain theme, without which I never do my best, but
with which I always do my best poems. The theme was
a grand one (“The Thoughts of God”); I had thought
of it for months, and never before had this impulse to
begin upon it; though, once begun, I expected it to be
one of my best poems. I spent a little time in prayer
first, and then the warning and the promise in Jeremiah
xv. 19 came strongly to my mind : “If thou take forth the
precious from the vile, thou shalt be as My mouth.” I
felt that wanted looking into; I wanted Him to take forth
the precious from the vile for me, and to reveal and purge
away, then and there, all the self and mingled motive
which would utterly mar the work that I wanted to be for
His glory. After that the question came, was I–had He
made me—just as willing to do any little bit of work for
Him, something for little children or poor people, simple
Aſ CHAAVGE OF WORA. 117
and unseen, as this other piece of work, which might win
something of man's praise? Then, I was intensely happy
in feeling that I could tell HIM that I had no choice at all
about it; but would really rather do just what He chose
for me to do, whatever it might be. However, there
seemed nothing else to do, so I began my poem. I don't
think I had written four lines when a labourer with a
scythe came along a tiny path to drink at the stream a
few yards below me. He did not see me, and started
when I hailed him and offered him a little book. He
climbed up to receive it, and then, instead of departing
as I expected, deliberately sat down on a big stone at
my feet, and commenced turning over the leaves, and
evidently laying himself out to be talked to. So here
was clearly a little call; and I talked to him for some
time, he being very interested and responsive. Just as
he was going to move off, two lads, of about fifteen and
eighteen, his sons, came crashing through the bushes; I
don’t recollect whether the father beckoned them or not,
anyhow up they came, and he quietly sat down again,
and they sat down too, and seemed quite as willing to
listen to the “old, old story” as he had been, only I
could not get so much out of them. At last the whole
crew departed, and I was just collecting my thoughts and
reviving the aforesaid “impulse,” when in about ten
minutes the younger lad reappeared, with his sister, a
girl about seventeen. They did not say a word, but
scrambled straight up to me, and seating themselves at
my feet, looked up into my face, saying by their look as
plain as any words, “Please talk to us !” What could
one do but accede 1 and they stayed at least another half
hour, so quiet and interested that one could not but hope
the seed was falling on “good ground.” The girl, Félicie,
was more communicative than the lads, very simple, but
intelligent. By the time they departed a good part of
the morning was gone, and the “impulse” too ! but I
enjoyed the morning probably twice as much as if I had
done a good piece of my poem; and it seemed so clear
that the Master had taken me at my word, and come
I 18 A/EMOR/4 LS OF F. R. H.
~J
and given me this to do for Him among His “little ones,'
and that He was there hearing and answering and accept.
ing me, that it was worth any amount of poem-power.
However, next day the “impulse” came again, which
is by no means always the case when once interrupted;
and once fairly started, I have worked out what I think is
perhaps the best poem I ever wrote, so far as I can judge.
But this is only one of constant instances which I
could tell, /I do so feel that every hour is distinctly and
definitely guided by Himy I have taken Him at His
word in everything, and He takes me at my word in
everything. Moh, I can say now that Jesus is “to me
a living bright Reality,” and that He really and truly is
“more dear, more intimately nigh, than e'en the sweetest
earthly tie.” No friendship could be what I find His
to be. I have more now than a few months ago, even
though I was so happy then ; for the joy of giving my-
self, and my will, and my all to Him seems as if it were
succeeded, and even superseded, by the deeper joy of a
conscious certainty that He has taken all that He led me
to give; and “I am persuaded that He is able to keep
that which I have committed unto Him:” so having
entrusted my very trust to Him, I look forward ever
so happily to the future (if there be yet much of earthly
future for me) as “one vista of brightness and blessed,
ness.” (Only I do so want everybody to “taste and see.}
Yesterday I somehow came to a good full stop in my
writing much earlier than I expected, and asked what He
would have me do next, go on, or go out at once P Just
then a young lady came in ; “Had I just a few minutes
to spare P” So I went out with her at once. She had
overheard a short chat I had had some days ago with
another, didn't know what, but it had set her longing for
something more than she had got. She had started out
for a walk alone, thinking and praying, and the thought
came to her to come straight to me, which she seemed
to think an unaccountably bold step. Well, God seemed
to give me exactly the right message for her, just as with
Miss M last week, the two cases starting from a very
* LITTLE PILLOWS.” 119
different level but the result the same, a real turning point.
Don't conclude, however, from these that I am always
seeing results, because I am not ; but that I am entirely
content about, just as He chooses it to be. .
It has occurred to me that, as I proſess to be
“writing,” you will expect a new book as the result, and
will be disappointed; so I tell you simply what I have
written, and what I am going to write.
“Our Swiss Guide.” Article for Sunday Magazine,
on the spiritual analogies in all sorts of little details of
mountaineering.” i
“For Charity.” Song for Hutchings and Romer.
“Enough.” Short sacred poem.
“How much for Jesus?” A sort of little true story
for children; for an American edition.
“True Hearted.” New Year's Address (in verse) for
Y. W. C. A., for January 1875.
“Tiny Tokens.” A small poem for Good Words.
“Precious Things.” A poem.
“A Suggestion.” Short paper for Home Words.
“The Precious Blood of Jesus.” A hymn.
“The Thoughts of God.” The aforesaid poem.
“Shining for Jesus.” Verses addressed to my nieces
and nephews at Winterdyne.
“New Year's Wishes,” by Caswell's request, for a very
pretty card.
These are all written, and copied, and done with.
Next week, D.V., I set about what I have long wanted
to do: “Little pillows,” thirty-one short papers as a
little book for children of, say, twelve years old; a short,
easily recollected text, to go to sleep upon for each night
of the month, with a page or two of simple practical
thoughts about it, such as a little girl might read every
night while having her hair brushed. I think this will
take me about a fortnight to write and arrange for press;
adding probably a verse or two of a hymn at the end of
each of the little papers. There are lots of little monthly
morning and evening books for grown up people, but I
don't know of one for children except those containing
[2O MEMORALS OF F. R. H.
only texts, I dare say I shall get in somehow three
other little poems that want writing (being on the
simmer): “The Splendour of God's Will,” “The good
Master,” and (don't be startled at the transition) “Play-
things;” also “Johann von Allmen,” a little article for
the Dayspring. I can clear off things easily here,
especially through not having so many letters. If I could
manage three months every year in a Swiss or Welsh
valley, I should keep my printer going.
ORMONT DESSUs, September 29, 1874.
DEAREST MOTHER,-
I don't know whether there is enough of interest for a
final circular. Not being sure of your address, the last
went to Maria. . . . The last week at the Ormont
Dessus the weather was perfect, and, without being un-
pleasantly hot, was warm enough for sitting out not
merely in the sunshine but in the moonlight too. Sunday
was one of the most exquisite days imaginable, brilliantly
clear, the autumn tints throwing in touches of crimson
and gold in splendid contrast to the pine woods, and
(what is so rare in Switzerland) the noon and afternoon
as glowing as the morning, everything vivid all day. At
the little French service I soon saw we had “somebody”
in the pulpit, and it was M. de Pressensé, who is, I have
been told, one of the first French orators. His sermon
was both eloquent and good. The people sing beautifully,
a downright treat, in German choral style as to music,
slow rich harmonies that bear dwelling on ; one tune
was Cassel, No. 190 in “Havergal's Psalmody.” It was
such sweet singing, every one keeping to cres, and dim.,
neither instrument nor apparently any stated choir, but
all the parts correctly sung by the congregation of
peasants. . . . I have finished not only “Little
Pillows,” but a little companion to it for morning use,
“Morning Bells ;” both manuscripts are ready for press.
I do not think it is nearly so easy to write for children
as for adults; constantly I refrained from what I would
WORK" AAWD RAEST. - | 2 |
most like to say about the texts, because it would not
be simple enough for the little ones. I have purposely
avoided any stories or anecdotes, lest children should
skim the book through in search of them, instead of
reading them night and morning steadily. At least I
know that is what I should have done ! I do so hope
these books will be really helpful to some of His little
ones. . . . I am so sorry that I shall not see Miss
- Whately at Montreux; I have a nice letter from her; she
has been delayed in England. You ask me how I am,
dearest mother. Very well indeed; those pleasant
mountain ascents with Constance were delightful. She
is a first-rate Alpinist, and we both enjoyed getting over
crevasses and glissading. Since then I have done
nothing to tire myself, and in every way have set health
first; I do wish to be very prudent, only by prudence I
don’t mean idleness. I sought to gain health and strength,
that I might use it on my return. . . .
I had a short conversation with two respectable men
from West Bromwich, who had been for a Swiss holiday
with Cook's tickets. They applied to me to interpret
something for them, and this led to a little talk which
drifted as usual into better things, and I found a decided
response. I had alluded to Christ's finished work for
us, when one of them answered quietly, “Yes, it's a
transfer, that’s the word. The last three days I have
had that word always on my mind; that's just what it is,
c a transfer, He takes our sins and makes over to us His
righteousness.” Then he told me that he had met on the
Rigi an invalid Irish clergyman, who seemed full of that
one thing; that he began telling him of Christ's finished
work and he ended with it, “And I never saw it so
clearly before, though I’ve been, so to say, looking about
for it this long time ; it was worth all my journey to get
hold of this truth. It seemed curious that such an
excellent clergyman should be obliged to give up his
living from ilk health and ordered abroad; but he was
sowing the seed in fifty places instead of one. Yes, that
great transfer | It's blessed ''' -
I22 MEMORIAA.S OF AZ. K. F.
<g
* .
*-
%
Was it not a nice instance of the real use of such seed
sowing 2 *
. . . In the train I had one of those curious
musical visions, which only very rarely visit me. I hear
strange and very beautiful chords, generally full, slow
and grand, succeeding each other in most interesting
sequences. I do not invent them, I could not ; they
pass before my mind, and I only listen. Now and then
my will seemed aroused when I see ahead how some fine
resolution might follow, and I seem to will that certain
chords should come, and then they do come; but then
my will seems suspended again, and they go on quite
independently. It is so interesting, the chords seem to
fold over each other and die away down into music of in-
finite softness, and then they unfold and open out, as if
great curtains were being withdrawn one after another,
widening the view, till, with a gathering power and inten-
sity and fulness, it seems as if the very skies were being
opened out before one, and a sort of great blaze and
glory of music, such as my outward ears never heard,
gradually swells out in perfectly sublime splendour. This
time there was an added feature : I seemed to hear
depths and heights of sound beyond the scale which
human ears can receive, keen, far-up octaves, like
vividly twinkling starlight of music, and mighty, slow
vibrations of gigantic strings going down into grand
thunders of depths, octaves below anything otherwise
appreciable as musical notes. Then, all at once, it
seemed as if my soul had got a new sense, and I could
see this inner music as well as hear it; and then it was
like gazing down into marvellous abysses of sound, and up
into dazzling regions of what, to the eye, would have
been light and colour, but to this new sense was sound.
Wasn't it odd It lasted perhaps half an hour, but I
don’t know exactly, and it is very difficult to describe in
words.
The long letter ends with :
I wish you had seen and heard the welcome my
** AAVC 7Tº R BROUGH/7”/?” . 123
cousins gave me! It was so nice, and altogether I am so
well and happy! It was curious, dearest mother, that
you should send me Psalm ciii. 1-3, for my mind was
specially full of it, only adding verses 4 and 5. I have
so very much to thank Him for, and the beautiful
sequence of five blessings seemed to sum it all up : “for-
giveth,” “healeth,” “redeemeth,” “crowneth thee with
lovingkindness and tender mercies,” and “satisfieth thy
mouth with good things.” And, really, I may add “so
that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's,” for I feel so
mentally fresh and unweary, and my cousins say they
never saw me looking so well. Hoping soon to reach
home, herewith ends the circular series of 1874 |
Your very loving child.
Returning from Switzerland in perfect health, much
could be told of her active work. We are glad to be
permitted to give one result of a visit, before returning
home to Leamington, as a representative of many others.
DEAR MARIA, -
This is not a circular. Just pray for all here. —
is first-fruits full and joyous decision for Christ, singu-
larly tested and acted on at once. I knew she was
not happy. When alone, I asked why she should let
days and weeks go by, drifting away in the cold. I told
her I should leave her room after praying, and begged
her to remain praying alone, and surrender her whole
self to the Lord Jesus. By-and-by, the time came
for her music practising. There was a ringingness in
her touch, playing with such joyance. Presently, I
went in and just put my arm round her : “Is it
for Jesus?” “Yes, I've made up my mind, it is all for
Jesus /* Every action spoke it, the smile and bright
determination of her voice. Without any suggestion from
me she told her mamma, the next day, that she could no
longer act in a French play at School. Here was a test
at once. We told her to “pray about it and trust.”
The governess was astonished at her decision, and the
124 A/EAfC) RAA LS OF AP. R. H.
girls still more so. So the good confession was made,
and she took her stand on the Lord's side at once, in a
way which is a real crossing of the Rubicon at school.
I never talk to girls about “giving up.”
I sent my sister the address of a young stranger,
thinking that a visit would comfort her, and knowing
how loyally she accepted work, but not knowing how
inconvenient and pressing it would be.
DEAREST MARIE,-
I felt tempted to the old sense of pressure with your
request, and cannot really possibly manage either of the
calls you suggest, without getting totally overdone; that
I can't feel would be right. I know you will approve,
for you and I always understand each other.
Then follows the characteristic postscript:
I have thought it over, and decide to telegraph to
your friend to meet me at Willesden Station on my
journey home, and I could stay an hour at the station
with her. It will be well worth any fatigue if I can
comfort her, . . .
C H A P T E R X.
(1874–1875.)
A dark enigma—Typhoid fever—“Waiting at the golden gates”
— Coming back from them — Winterdyne — Relapse — Oak-
hampton — The ministry of kind servants — Return to work
— Letters – Gleams — Whitby – “Reality l’” — The old
friend's letter—Kindness of friends.
- “WHAT though to-day -
Thou canst not trace at all the hidden reason,
For His strange dealings through the trial season,
Trust and obey ! ,, .
, Though God's cloud-mystery enfold thee here, \
In after life and light all shall be plain and clear.”
N the latter part of this year (1874) came one of the
strange enigmas of her life, stranger to our weaker
faith than to our own implicit trust.
Somehow or somewhere she caught fever, and com.
menced her homeward journey with dull headache and
sickness. But she did not fail in that loving care for the
stranger to whom reference was made on the preceding
page; and, through some mistake on her not arriving at
Willesden, Frances waited an hour and a half, and then
took her in the train some miles on her journey, that she
might not forego the promised interview. This testimony
was received after the conversation: “Oh if I could only
feel as she looked ; your sister Frances was so young and
126 M.E./ORIA LS OF F. R. H.
lovely, and I am glad I saw for once that God-satisfied face.
A ray of hope came as she talked to me in the train. . .”
Home was reached, shiverings and feverish symptoms
rapidly set in, and she was soon utterly prostrate with
typhoid fever. All that motherly watchfulness, medical
skill, and trained nursing could do failed to arrest the
attack. About the middle of November the balancings
of our hopes and fears were just between life and death.
Prayer was made unceasingly for the life so dear to us,
and even special prayer meetings were held to plead for
one known so widely, though principally by her writings.
Our prayers and cries and tears were answered, and our
beloved one was restored.
Some weeks after she told me many things which may
be profitable to others.
“All through my long illness I was very happy; the
first part was the most painful, I think it must have been
neuralgia with the fever. I don’t really think I was
impatient deep down in my heart, and yet the pain and
agony I was in made me anxious for the poultices, and
to try anything. I do think I am sensitive to pain, and
what was agony to me would be slight to others. My
one wish was to glorify God and to let my doctor and
nurse see it; so at the very first I determined to ask for
nothing and just obey. Nothing could exceed dear
mother's kindness and tenderness to me day and night,
and getting everything I wished for. For some time,
even in those bright days in the Ormont Dessus, I had
a presentiment that, may be, my faith would be tried, and
that my Father would not leave me without chastise-
ment. WNot that I think illness such a trial as many
others I have gone through ; oh, it’s nothing to unseen
trials | | Besides, you get such sympathy in illness, and I
knew many would pray for me. Only, I did not want
them to pray that I might get well at all. Sometimes I
could not quite see His Face, yet there was His promise,
COAVPERSE MAW THE VAZZAZ V. 127
‘I will never leave thee.' I knew He said it and that
He was there.”
M. “Had you any fear at all to die?”
A. “Oh no, not a shadow. It was on the first day of
this illness I dictated to Constance, “Just as Thou wilt,
O Master, call !”
M. “Then, was it delightful to think you were going
home, dear Fan P”
A. “No, it was not the idea of going home, but that
Aïe was coming for me and that I should see my Aing,
I never thought of death as going through the dark valley
or down to the river; it often seemed to me a going up
to the golden gates and lying there in the brightness, just
waiting for the gate to open for me. . . . I never
before was, so to speak, face to face with death. It was
like a look into heaven; and yet, when my Father sent
me back again, I felt it was His will, and so I could not
be disappointed.”
About the middle of January (1875) change of air was
recommended, and I brought her to Winterdyne. I
remember that, just as we were assisting her into the
carriage at our Leamington home, the telegram came with
the almost sudden news of our dear brother Henry's
death, but it was thought right not to tell her till the
journey was over.
Only a few days passed of comparative recovery, when
a relapse set in, and she was again ill for many weeks.
It was really delightful work to nurse one so patient, so
thankful, so considerate; and, when it seemed needful to
relieve the servants, and send for a nurse, they pleaded
to be let sit up in turn with “dear Miss Frances.”
Turning to my note-book I find some recollections
which may be given.
January 29, 1875. Sitting by dear Frances she said to
me, “Isn't He gracious not to send me so severe an attack
128 MAE ºf ORAAES OF F. R. H.
as in November 2 I felt sure the night I was shivering
that illness was coming again; and, as I lay down, the
Sweet consciousness that I was just lying down in His
dear hand was so stilling.” -
“Marie, do you think this simile holds good, that when
we cast our burden on the Lord, at our first prayer He
cuts the strings that bind it on us? then, if we give a
leap, the burden will slide off, and we shall not go on
toiling with it up the hill 1 I mean, if we just thanked
and praised Him, at once the burden would be clean
gone ſ” - - -
M. “Were you thinking of the burden of sin, dear?”
F. “Yes, and other burdens; specially aggravations
of things that you have no strength to bear.”
M. “I suppose if He is carrying us, then He carries
our burdens too.”
A. “Yes, that was our text last night, ‘I will carry;’
if carried, no weight on us at all.” -
M. “I think carrying is His first and last act; when
He finds the lost sheep He lays it on His shoulder and
just carries it all the way, even into His fold above.
It will be nice to see Him, Fan l’
A. “‘AVice,” I like that ; but I never heard any one
but you say it just like that, except Mary She
once told me of a missionary and his wife who had
reached the end of their voyage to New Zealand, and
were to have landed that night but were prevented; a
sudden cyclone arose, and the ship went down instan-
taneously, Mary added, “Was it not nice?’”*
My dear sister always enjoyed the early morning air for
a few minutes, and often we had sweet talks before the
break of day, and then she would get a little sleep.
Sunday, February 1, I found her very exhausted, and
moaning with pain. She said: “No sleep last night,
* See Appendix.
CHASTENED, BUT CHERISHED. I29
Marie. The Master wants me to bring forth more fruit,
more patience.” I said: “The Husbandman must be
very near when He is pruning the branch, and He is
the God of patience.”
Aº ‘‘That’s nice.”
Another morning I said ; “I will give you your
Morning Bell, “Thou hast given me the shield of Thy
salvation.’”
A. “His shield is the biggest and brightest 1 I want
you to ask some of His praying people to pray for me;
it's not I suppose a question of recovery, but that it may
be blessed and sanctified to me. ( But I know the Lord
Jesus is praying for me.')
M. “(Yes, and He prays even before the trial or tempt.
ation comes to us, as He said to Peter, “But I have
prayed for thee.”
A. “And He must have presented all those inter.
cessions for Peter before they heard him knocking at
the door.”
After some days Frances was so extremely ill, that we
telegraphed for our mother to come to Winterdyne
Remarking to Frances that dear mother was so wise, and
that I could always trust her judgment in illness, she
added, “Yes, and such watchfulness and handiness too.”
When our dear mother arrived Frances said,Jé I am
trusting Him for every bit of the way.”)
Mother. “Yes, dear, and He will not bring us by the
right way and then leave us in the midst.” -
A. “But perhaps the vessel won't get in just the tack
she expects to.”
After the feverish attack had passed, she suffered very
much from supervening results; but even when in acute
pain would say lively things, to divert our thoughts from
herself. The servants were indeed astonished at her
cheerful patience; and I well remember a remark she
|
130 AMEMORYAZS OF AZ. Af. H.
made to me: “Oh, Marie, if I might but have five
minutes ease from pain I don't want ever to moan
when gentle sister Ellen comes in. How I am troubling
you all !”
M. “But, Fan we should not think it trouble to
minister to the Lord Jesus !”
F. “Well no, I only hope relationship won't preclude
a big ‘inasmuch' for you all.”
“. . . It's no mistake, Marie, about the blessing
God sent me December 2, 1873; it is far more distinct
than my conversion, I can't date that. I am always
happy, and it is such peace; I could not help smiling
when my kind doctor said, ‘I dare say you feel rather
depressed.' I said: “No indeed quite happy, only
tired and want to be quiet.” Of course I should like to
be at work, and it seems strange how often I am
hindered from it. You are always pegging away; but
I like to think I shal/ serve Him up there, and I would
rather serve Him than rest. . . . The work I should so
like to take up is drawing-room Bible readings; I so
enjoyed one I took down at Bocking, but was rather
startled to see the good folks taking notes | You see, I
had just overcome the nervousness I used to feel, and
I could so trust about this also.”
Another day Frances said: & I think my special
anticipation of heaven is seeing the Lord Jesus exalted,
glorified, vindicated, reigning King of kings, and all His
enemies owning Him.”
M. “Have you thought that as, in the Gospels,
Christ's special manifestations were to people when
alone, so when we first see Him in heaven it will be
alone 2''
F. “Yes, and that is most beautifully brought out in
Mr. Bickersteth's ‘Yesterday, To-day, and For Ever,’ it's
the very gem of the book. When I read it, and came to
SZO W RAE CO WE R Y. 131
where the angel leaves him waiting for the King to
come, I almost trembled as I turned the page; for, if
Mr. B. had treated it with a light hand, it would have
been profane; but it's lovely.”
“I have been thinking, Marie, how much more God
gives me than I need. Look at this illness Well,
except the bearing it, there is no other sting in it. I
feel illness is the least trial, and it comes so directly
from the hand of God. And how kind they are all to
me ! Winterdyne always seems to me a sort of
millennial household !”
Her recovery was extremely slow, but her room was
the brightest in the house. At last she was carried
downstairs, but for some time used crutches. Needle-
work for the Zenana Missions was a great enjoyment to
her. Sitting by her one day she told me her reasons for
giving up singing at the Philharmonic. “It is a long
time ago that I made the choice of singing sacred music
only. I did so some months before I wrote:
‘Take my lips, and let me sing,
Always, only, for my King.’
I was visiting at Perry Villa when Dr. Marshall sent me
the programme of the next Kidderminster concert, and
strongly urged me to sing the part of Jezebel in the
‘Elijah,’ saying that he could not depend on any one
else for it. I knew I could do it; for once, at the practice,
the doctor said I threw such life into it. Mentioning it
to Mr. Snepp, he expressed surprise, and his words struck
me: “How can a Christian girl personate Jezebel?” So
I thought about it, saw the inconsistency, and gave it up,
I think the last thing I sang in the hall was ‘Come unto
Him I’ Then at Leamington, the first large party I went
to, they asked me to sing, and I sang, ‘Whom having not
132 AMEAMORIA MS OF AZ, Aº’. H.
seen ye love.' Every one seemed astonished, and
especially some Christian girls who had begun to think
music could not be for the King's service, and were rather
rebelling at their daily practice. They had never thought
of consecrating their voices and fingers, but began from
thenceforth. I would advise any one thoroughly to
master one song, make it part of yourself, throw your
whole self into it, then pray it may be His message, and
it will be all right. For myself, I have more confidence
in singing Scripture words than any other, because they
are His. And, Marie dear, as I sing I am praying, too,
that it may soothe or reach some one, though I may
never know whom.’
“I have been resting lately on *The Lord is my
portion.’ j All else is so unsatisfying, and even the best
earthly gifts fail to reach the true depths of the heart. I
do so love that hymn : -
‘To Thee, O dear, dear Saviour,
My spirit turns for rest.’
What could we do without Him in this lonely world of
shadows P And He will not let us do without Him
And may we not reverently and wonderingly say,
“Neither can He do without us !” His people are so
entwined around His heart that it must be so.
(I have also been thinking that only the Holy Spirit
can teach any one the mystery of ‘the blood which
cleanseth from all sin.” For years I believed it, without
seeing as I do now into the mystery, (and there are
depths yet unseen, which God's Spirit reveals as His
work of sanctification goes on.}
We are kindly allowed to insert two or three letters of
this period.
“ PERFECTLY SA TWSF/E D." 133
WINTERDYNE, February 22, 1875.
DEAR MR.
I want to thank you for all your prayers for me. Only,
only, have the prayers of my dear friends held me back
from going to be with the Beloved One P Or is it that
He has some more little work for me to do, and so has
only been richly answering all your prayers in the “perfect
peace” in which He has kept me ! Oh, He has been so
tenderly gracious to me; it has been such gentle, faithful
lovingkindness all through. It seems worth even coming
back from the very golden gatºs if I may but in some
way “tell of His faithfulness.” f I do wish people would
but trust Jesus out and out,' and give themselves up
utterly to Him; and then wouldn't they find rest to their
souls | WBut it will be a long waiting time yet, “at least
six months,” says my doctor, before I may write or do
anything. But now just see how wonderfully kind He is
to me. He has taken my will as I gave it to Him, and
now I really am not conscious of even a wish crossing
His will concerning me. I seem to be enabled to be
PERFECTLY satisfied with whatever He chooses, and it is
so nice. This is all of Him, otherwise I should fidget
and kick | Somehow, of late, I mean for many months,
He seems not to have allowed the enemy to come near
me. From the hour my illness began I have only had
one dark hour, and that was when I thought my special
prayer, “that this sickness might be for the glory of
God,” had been denied, for I felt f hate not “glorified
Him in the fires,” because, after I had lost all my
strength, I could not bear the pain without moaning and
crying out, and showing eagerness for remedies. But He
so tenderly assured me of pardon, and gave me “He
knoweth our frame,” that even that cloud soon passed.
In this second illness He has mercifully spared me any
recurrence of such pain, only laying upon me discomfort
enough to exercise the patience which has perhaps been
His chief lesson for me. Perhaps you and other dear
friends will be disappointed. I know you ect that

I34 AMEMOR/A/S OF F. R. A.
ſº
the Master will give me new and fuller messages for
others after all this. But I really do not know what He
has been teaching me; I do not seem conscious (at
present) of having gained anything for others; it has
been just lying fallow. For myself I feel as if it had
intensified my trust;(I do trust Him utterly, and feel as
if I could not help trusting Him; it seems to “come
natural” now !3 And “I will fear no evil” seems a
natural sequence; what should I fear P (There is no
terror in anything when “safe in the arms of Jesus,” and
nothing can take me out of them.) The marvellous way
in which God has inclined you especially, and others too,
to pray for me, does seem such a token of His incom-
prehensible love to me, that I see I need an eternity to
praise Him to my heart's content Now, dear friend,
I am asking Him that, somehow, and in His own time,
He would graciously let me, even me, be the means of
Some new sweet blessing to you, perhaps to your people
too, as a tiny return for all your loving prayers for me.
Do you think that the Lord does show unto His
servants things which must shortly come to pass P. It was
so strange that, while perfectly well and strong in Swit-
zerland, I had a constant presentiment that some form of
physical suffering would be the next step in His dealings
with me, that His loving wisdom would see it needful for
me. But I had not a vestige of fear or shrinking; I
rather felt I could welcome it, if it might but make me
more “meet for the Master's use.” So I was not a bit
surprised when the illness came. V.
*How infinitely blessed it is to be entirely Christ's. To
think that you and I are never to have another care or
another fear, but that Jesus has undertaken simply
everything for us ! And isn't it grand to have the
privilege of being His instruments? It does seem suc
- - --satures.”
loving condescension that He should use us.
I don't know when I shall get downstairs; much too
weak as yet. But I am in no hurry, He will give me .
strength at the right time. Yours, etc., etc.
g
"º.*
WINTERD WAVE. 135
WINTERDYNE, February 1875.
DEAR MR. 2
Your letter came on the evening of a day of more than
usual languor, after a bad night, and it was spiritual
salvolatile to me ! I am so glad to hear of your ten.
Many thanks for your remembrance of me on Wednes-
day evening, and for letting me have the pleasure of
joining you. Will you tell your “band” that God seemed
to put it into my heart, in a very special way, to pray that
they all might be soul-winners, and at once / No waiting
for further orders, they have got their commission now :
“Let him that heareth say, Come !” And I prayed
long at Acts iv. 29, 30, for them; “grant unto Thy
servants,” etc. But there must be power from on high,
or they are helpless ; and I asked that this might be
given. Then, I think the Master gave me a special
text for them, will you ask them to take it each one as
from Him : “WEehold I give you power over all the power
of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you?”
Why it is grand; “power over all the power of the
enemy ºf Just where he is strongest, there they shall
prevail; not over his weak points and places, but over
the very focus of his power; not over his power here and
there, or now and then, but over all his power. And
Jesus said it ! Isn't it enough to go into any battle with !
And it is not future; not “I will give,” but present, now :
“I give unto you,” “unto you,” to every one whom
He sends out, to every one of your dear “ten,” if they
will but put out the hand of faith to take it. One hardly
seems to need any addition to this, and yet His tender
love adds the personal assurance, “nothing shall by
any means hurt you.” Nothing, really and absolutely
nothing ! So there is not the least loop-hole left for the
shadow of a fear to steal in. No end to the promise, it
won't leave off, good for every day and moment all along,
“till glory.” Now, with such a clear commission and
such an inspiring promise, which of your “ten” will be
content to let another day pass without an attack upon
“the power of the enemy P” When shall I hear of the
136 MEMORYAA.S OF F. R. H.
victories that must follow P You will tell me of them,
won't you? I want each one of your “ten” to begin at
once to work out with God the fulfilment of Isaiah xlix. 25,
so that numbers of captives may be delivered from the
enemy, and led as blessed, willing, rejoicing captives in
the triumph of Jesus Christ. I should like also to send
to your “loving F–’ “more than conquerors through
Him that loved us,” and to your “little S ” Jeremiah
i. 7. Why, only think if he begins winning souls at
fourteen, and goes straight on (God sparing him), what
splendid sheaves he will have to lay at the Master's feet !
Will you ask them to send me a text for myself.
In what I have said I need hardly say I do not forget
the other side, that “no man can come to Me except,” etc.,
and so on; but then is not the seeking and obtaining His
power a proof that we are on the track of His purposes?
“ſthy people shall be willing in the day of Thy power,”
and it is only in “Thy power” that we hope to succeed
I rejoice in your joy in Hi How good He is to us!
I never find that He fails to respond to trust; it
is indeed “whatsoever” in its fulness. And now I see
that “able” means able, and “all” means all. Do
you not find that, even in proportion as we realize
this marvellous power upon us and in us, we realize
as never before our utter dependence upon it, and utter
weakness without it, AND our utter vileness and sinful-
ness were the cleansing power of His precious blood
withdrawn for one moment But why should we ever
refuse to believe in its glorious fulness? (1 John i. 7.)
ſI keep wondering every day what new lovingkindness
fis coming next It is such a glorious life And the
really leaving EVERYTHING to Him is so inexpressibly/
sweet, and surely He does arrange so much better than
; we could for ourselves, when we leave it all to Him. /
(To J. E. J.)
DEAR J y
Z realize, “Lord, I have given my life to Thee, and
every day and hour is Thine.” For, literally, every hour
re
CHAAWGE OF SCEAVE. 137
seems in His hand, and filled with His work in some
form or other, either preparation, actual service, or, as
now, weakness and pain. It is quite marvellous how He
really seems answering my prayer that He would accept
my whole life, down to its very moments.
gº º It always seems to me the worst compliment
possible to our dear Church of England, when a certain
class of minds regard anything which has a little extra
life, and love, and warmth, and glow, as being, well—
suspicious / As if we are never to ask, and never to
expect, and never to have any such extra blessing as He
is pouring out in our very midst
In April 1875, it was thought desirable that my
sister should try change of air; and on the 3rd the
Winterdyne servants gathered round for farewell words,
and she thanked them warmly for all their kindness,
adding: “It was a great comfort, in my illness, the way
in which you waited upon me; I saw you never grudged
the trouble I gave you; that would have distressed me.
Remember, God's promises are for each of you ; faith is
just holding out your hand, and taking them. It is what
I am learning every day; it makes me happy, and I want
all of you to be always happy, trusting in the Lord Jesus.”
One inscription written in the books she gave them
is: “Fanny Holloway, with the writer's warm thanks —
for her great kindness and attention during her illness at
Winterdyne, January to April, 1875. “INASMUCH ' (Matt.
xxv. 40).”
A short drive to Oakhampton, and there all the
comforts of her eldest sister's pleasant home awaited her.
Frances' constant consideration for the servants,
wherever she visited, secured the most loving service.
Bible readings in the servants’ halls, kind talks alone,
and helpful prayers are all remembered. The large
6\
*-
138 4/A.M.O.RAA LS OF A. R. A.
*T*~ --~~~~ --ºs--- - - - - - --------- *-* ~ ****
reference Bibles she gave them are treasured remem-
brances of this visit. She was delighted when every
servant at Oakhampton joined the Christian Progress
Union.
(79 / 7. W.)
OAKHAMPTON, April 1875.
DEAR MR. W---,
I see now ! And the whole thing is brightened up
splendidly I both meant myself, and took your re.
marks to apply, to “fallow” as to service and prepara-
tion for service; and so, while I read them with great
interest and pleasure, I did not get the full benefit of
them, because I said, “Oh yes, but I am all right on
this point l’ But I was all wrong on the point you
aimed at, and by your second letter hit. I see that
“lamenting” and “trusting” are not compatible; and
that, while I fancied I was trusting for everything, I was
not trusting as to His spiritual dealings with me, and
that I might rest as satisfied about this as about all else.
es, I “could not read His prescriptign,” but I can
now take it without trying to spell it." # see that my
growth in grace is His affair, and that He is certainly
taking care of it, even though I don’t see it.! Only,
I am so sorry I did not trust Him perfectly; it makes
me feel that I shall henceforth mistrust myself more than
ever, and yet trust Him more than ever,
I am beginning to taste a little bit of the real blessed-
ness of waiting. One does not wait alone, for He waits
too. Our waiting times are His also. I have been so
- delighted with the two “waits” in Isaiah xxx. 18, surely
it implies a fellowship of waiting.
(To the same.)
April 1875.
I must just begin a letter to you. Intercourse, even
by letter, with real and dear Christian friends, is one of
g
AA TWEAVT £AWD URAAWCA’. I39
the pleasures whicl i one only saps here, but don't you
think it will be a great delight above? I have been
thinking how nice it will be to have a long talk with you
in heaven, in the grand leisure of eternity, and inter-
change the blessed things which the Master will (I
suppose) be showing and saying to each, with just as
much individuality of revelation as here. Perhaps I
look forward to this peculiarly, because I have so very
many congenial Christian friends whom I rarely see, and
correspondents, known and unknown, with whom l
cannot have the intercourse I would ; and, owing to
my delicate health, there have always been so many
interruptions to communications, and of late so much
entire isolation. But I think you probably have the
same keen anticipation, for you can’t have time on earth
for much “sweet counsel !” And how well we can
afford to wait for some of our “good things I’’
Nearly nine months since I was last at morning family
worship ! I was in almost too great spirits about it,
which is not good for me, and of course I had to
subside, and go and lie down for a considerable part of
the morning; still it was quite an epoch After four
months' illness and weakness, I am told that I must not
expect to be able for any sort of work for at least six
months longer; but I do not feel one regret. Somebody
wrote to me about resignation the other day, but I don’t
feel as if the word suited at all ; there is an undertone of
“feeling it rather hard nevertheless” in it, of submitting
to a will which is different from one's own. He has
granted me fully to rejoice in His will, I am not conscious
of even a wish crossing it; ſi do really and altogether
desire that His will may be done, whatever it is) It was
so sweet, when my second illness began, to lie down
under His dear hand, not knowing how long or how
much I might have to suffer, but perfectly happy and
trustful about it, and guite satisfied that He should do
with me just as He would. Oh, isn’t it good of Him to
have wrought this for me ! This terrible pain,_I cannot
feel that I wish it taken away a day sooner than His
far-sighted faithful love appoints. tº
140 MºEMORIAA.S. C. F. A. R. F.
S.
This morning 1 opened on Deuteronomy xxxii. 2,
“My speech shall distil as the dew.” It seemed a direct
answer from Him, for one does not see the dew fall, one
never sees it at all till morning, and then! So perhaps
He is speaking to me more than I think for, and, when
the “afterward” comes, it may be that I shall find He
has said a good deal to me after all ! Yours ever.
(To the same.)
I find (having fairly tried) that the whole gift of
verse is taken from me. I think it will some day be
restored (as once before after five years' suspension);
but at present I could not write a hymn or poem. Thus
God proves to me it is directly from Him, not a power
to be used at my will, but only when He will ; and I
would rather have it so. But, even if I were in full
vein, I only consciously write up to my own experience;
so, though I might write what you would like to see on
“Rest and Brightness,” I should have to leave out
praise for “power,” because I do not feel that, as yet,
God has ever endued me with that. It is not “come,
see, and conquer,” as to souls, with me as it is with you,
I know some of my words do not fall to the ground, but
most of them do; and the blessing which He does
seem to send with my printed writings, and sometimes
with my letters, does not seem to me quite the same
thing as the blessed “power” which some have. That
reminds me, this morning I read 2 Corinthians iv. in the
Greek, and was so wonderingly happy over that “far
more exceeding weight of glory.” I had not specially
noticed the Greek before, how magnificently far reaching
and strong it is! I suppose “from glory to glory” is even
here and now, and then to go beyond this to an eternal
weight of glory, and then for this to be x0.9' intep 3oxºv eis
intep;30Xàv, is such a marvellous leading on of infinite thought
into infinite glory ! It is like those flights that one now and
then takes from planets to suns, and suns to star systems
and cycles, and then away to the farthest nebulae, and
** 7TP/E DEA R O ZD IRASH, SOCIETY.” 141
then one sees no end, for imagination and analogy go on
till they get lost in infinity. But to think that we are
actually going right into all this glory, and have actually
begun with it; having the earnest of the purchased
possession now, and absolute certainty of all of it before
long ! What are flights among stars and nebulae com-
pared to this I have not thought it out, but I feel a con-
nection between this and the Greek in Ephesians iii. 19.
(To J. G. M. Kirchhoffer.)
DEAR JULIA,- AZay 9.
Thank you very much for your very pretty little ballad,
and for the leaflets. I shall watch your pen, if we live,
with much interest, and pray that you may be enabled to
consecrate it, always and entirely, to our beloved Master
You will need to be very watchful, for Satan will try to
sow tares among your wheat, and to introduce self into
what we want to be only for Christ.
But His grace is sufficient, and if He keeps you, by
that grace, humble and looking unto Him, the gift He
* entrusts to you will be help to yourself, and I hope to
many others, and the enemy will not be able to turn it
* into a hindrance. I am so glad you have been at work
already for the dear old Irish Society, and with such
thorough good will. Will you make it a matter of prayer
It is often wonderful what unexpected opportunities God
gives us when we ask. I have so often found it so in
collecting for this very thing. Your taking the card was
an answer to myself, for I was feeling rather disheartened
that day in the work, and prayed that I might have some
extra bit of success at last, as a token for good. And
then you consented to collect, where I only looked for a
single subscription. I am afraid it will be, still, a long
time before I come home, but I hope to see you and your
kind friends when I do. I send you one of my favourite
* texts, “He is precious.” Think of the absolute “is,”
always and unspeakably precious, whether we realize it
I42 MEMORIA LS CA’ F. R. H.
Q
or not. How little we know of His preciousness yet,
but how much there is to know, and how much we shall
know ! Press on then to find more of His preciousness.
Yours affectionately.
(Extracts from Zetters to Miss E. / Whately.)
June 1875.
& © Though I have had plenty of invalided
times, and of short sharp suffering, this has been my very
first experience of really severe and prolonged illness
(since October); and I do not merely think I ought to
feel, but I Do feel, that it was the crowning blessing of a
year of unprecedented blessing and yet of many trials.
“Great is Thy faithfulness” shines on every day of it;
and “I will fear no evil” is more than ever a very song
* to me. It was as if, while laying His own dear hand
ever so heavily upon me, He kept the enemy completely
at a distance, and did not let him even approach me,
encompassing me with a wall of fire. . . . For three
or four weeks I was too prostrate for any consecutive
prayer, or for even a text to be given me; and this
was the time for realizing what “silent in love” meant
" (Zeph. iii. 17). And then it seemed doubly sweet when
I was again able to “hold converse” with Him. He
seemed, too, so often to send answers from His own
word with wonderful power. One evening (after a re-
lapse) I longed so much to be able to pray, but found I
was too weak for the least effort of thought, and I only
looked up and said, “Lord Jesus, I am so tired l’ And
then He brought to my mind “rest in the Lord,” with
its lovely marginal reading, “be silent to the Lord,” and
so I just was silent to Him, and He seemed to over-
flow me with perfect peace, in the sense of His own
perfect love. It was worth anything to lie and think that
it might be really “the Master's home call;” but I do
think it was worth almost more to find, when the tide
turned, that He had really taken the will I had laid at
His feet, and could and did take away all the disappoint-
WAZTIAWG ‘‘ W/THI " H/AZ, 143
ment which I had fancied must be so keen at being
turned back from the golden gates. I was more aston-
ished at finding that He could make me quite as glad and
willing to live and suffer, as to go straight away to heaven,
than at anything, I think. And it is just the same now.
I have no idea how long I may have to wait, for (though
not now ill, but only invalided) what with relapses and
results I am making very slow progress, and not likely to
be able for any sort of work for months yet: but I do
so feel the truth of (blessed are they that wait for Him.j:
It seems a necessary sequence of the first part of the
verse, #therefore will the Lord wait,”, for waiting for
Him is waiting witH Him.” I am breaking rules in
writing so much, but I could not help wanting to tell you
how very kind He has been to me, and I don't think any
Christian could be more utterly unworthy than I of such
gentle, gracious dealing. I doubted and mistrusted Him
for so many years, and what I used to call “terrible
conflict” I now see to have been simple unbelief.
tº dº ſº It is so nice to meet those with whom one
is in full sympathy. One meets so many who only go
such a little way; I mean really Christians, yet taking
such faint interest in Christ's cause and kingdom, all
alive as to art, or music, or general on-goings, yet not
seeming to feel the music of His name, ſome does so
long for all who are looking to Him for salvation to be
“true-hearted, whole-hearted.” And I have been think-
ing how inevitably such half-hearted Christians will be at
a disadvantage when “He cometh,” as compared with
those whose whole gladness is from Him only, and
whose whole interests are centred in His kingdom and
that which advances it.
With the return of health came a return to work.
Her quick sympathy and loving help, by word and by
letter, can hardly be represented. “Aunt Fanny always
understands me” indicates the source of her influence.
Pencil notes of hers, which are really treasures, lie before
me, but only glimpses may be given.
I44 MEMORAA.S OF A. A. H.
*-*-* *
(In the train) September 29, 1875.
My own DEAR “LITTLE THING,”—
ë I have been thinking so much and so sadly of
the hint you gave me. . . . We must be much in
prayer about it. For yourself, dear little thing, whatever
the near bothers or the far griefs may be, you and all
your “matters” are in the dear Saviour's, hand, and He
says, “tºſy grace is sufficient for thee,”/ and I like to
take a still simpler Saxon word and say, “My grace is
quite enough for thee.” Yes, “quite enough,” dear, for
all the sorrows and all the trials, little ones as well as
great, and all the weakness and all the insufficiency and
all the coldness and hardness of heart, guite enough for
you in spite of all !
(To the same.)
DEAREST “LITTLE THING,”—
Jet the Lord lead you, let Him have you altogether.
And, dear pet, blessing hardly ever comes alone; if He
has the joy of winning you altogether for Himself, He
won’t stop there, He will do more, He is doing so
here. I do trust two of the servants are resting and
trusting, and I quite hope the gardener has laid hold on
eternal life; and I am expecting more for the angels
to rejoice over. . . . I feel most deeply for you.
Keep very close to Jesus, my darling, and ask Him
never to let you take back what you have now given
Him. Be His entirely, without any reserve, and He will
be yours entirely.
My Own “LITTLE THING,”—
If you knew how glad we all are But, better still, I
know Jesus is glad. He wanted you, or He would not
have drawn you. And now, dearie, just rest in Him.
Listen to all He has to say, and you will find He has
“somewhat to say to thee” every time you open His
A FST AAWD TRUST. I45
word. Listen, and obey whatever He says (John ii. 5).
Mr. Mountain said, “Our souls should be like aspen
leaves, responsive to the least breath of the Spirit.”
Dear little thing, be one of the Lord's aspen leaves;
don’t wait for great strong blasts, but yield to the least
whisper from Him of “this is the way, walk ye in it.”
And, now, expect great things You don't know what
He is going to astonish you with. “Open thy mouth
wide, and I will fill it.” Go to work for Him at once,
put your little sickle in, and see if the Lord does not
make the sheaves fall before it ! (AJon't hold back from
letting Him use you! Your blessing will probably, if you
are quite faithful with it, result in fresh blessing all around
you to those who have been blessed already, and who
knows what to those who do not yet know the fulness
of the blessing AſKeep trusting the Lord Jesus, or
rather let Him "keep you trusting, and draw every
word from Him; ask Him always, all day long, what to
do, what to say. Pray Mr. Aitken's prayer: “Lord,
... take my lips and speak through them ; take my mind
and think through it; take my heart and set it on fire.)
- Your loving aunt.
P.S.—Yes, sing for Jesus ! do all in the name of the
Lord Jesus Christ. -
(To C. A.)
DEAR CLEMENT,
You are all alone, so I must send you a line. How-
ever, you will not find it very dismal in this lovely
weather and the bright look out of seeing your dear ones.
Last evening I was at a young women's meeting, and
asked to sing, so I prayed the dear Master would let me
bring them a message of song from Himself. There are
so many “all for Jesus” Christians here. Seriously,
dear Clement, if that is indeed our heart's motto, we
find that Jesus is all for us, and all in all to us. I hit
upon two little texts yesterday which fitted together
beautifully. First, a prayer, “Do Thou for me, O
Lord,” did you ever notice it? “do Thou,” just what.
}.
146 MEMORIAA.S OF F. R. H.
&
º *
ever wants doing for us or in us, just whatever we
cannot do at all for ourselves. Then, if we really pray
this, we shall follow it up with “God that performeth all
things for me !” Think of His simply doing everything
for you and me. What can we wish more ?
Your loving aunt.
“Don’t hold back from letting Him use you !” Loyal
words, often repeated. A friend in Leamington remem-
bers showing F. R. H. a letter she had received from
Miss Weston, asking her to write “Monthly Letters for
Seamen.” Frances read the letter and said to Mrs. B.,
“What are you going to do? Accept it of course !”
Mrs. B. “I am not fit for such a work. I know
nothing of ships and sailors.”
F. “If you reject it, God does not want for instru-
ments to do His work; don’t shrink from the honour
He puts upon you.”
Such was her faithful encouragement.
(To —.)
ASHLEY MOOR, September 1875.
I can hardly say I am sorry for you, dear friend,
although you tell me of suffering and trial, and although
I feel very much for you in it; because I am so sure the
Master is leading you by the right way, and only means
it to issue in all the more blessing. hat mistakes we
should make if we had the choosing, and marked out
nice smooth paths for our friends !" It has struck me
too, very much lately, that the Lord's most used and
blessed workers are always almost weighted in some way
or other. I don’t know one who, to our limited view, is
not working under weights and hindrances of some sort,
contrasting with mere professors who seem so much
more favourably placed for what they don't do. g
I am so very glad that He did not answer prayer for
• ‘A’AAAATV/* I47
my recovery all those eight months of illness; why I
should have missed all sorts of blessing and precious
teaching if He had Î But when one feels that He Him-
self gives “the prayer of faith,” then I would pray it
“nothing doubting.”
After the 14th, my address will be Post-Office, Whitby,
Yorkshire. I am so thankful and rejoiced at what you
tell me about the two ladies; it is so gracious of Him to
use my hymns. Yours, in His grace and love.
In the autumn of 1875 Frances went to Whitby with
Mr. and Mrs. Shaw ; en route she visited Miss Sadler
and her sister, the friends of early days. She also
enjoyed a visit to York Minster, and a pleasant interview
with Dr. Dykes.
It was at Whitby she heard, in the noon prayer
meeting, the petition of a working man, “Father, we
know the reality of Jesus Christ.” The expression
haunted her, and she often referred to it. Some two
weeks after, the night was very wild, vessels were in
danger, and the life-boat put out. Frances saw it all
and wrote the poem, “Reality, Reality, Lord Jesus
Christ, Thou art to me,” and thus the reference to
Christ, as, “Pilot, Life-boat, and Haven.” ”
* A remarkable fact in connection with this poem is noticed
by my sister, and printed as a footnote to the leaflet edition.
It is as follows:– “At another prayer-meeting on the same day, a
young Christian who had been witnessing for this ‘reality’ among
those who called religion a ‘phantom’ and a ‘sham,’ prayed
earnestly—‘Lord Jesus, let Thy dear servant write for us what Thou
art—Thou living, bright Reality (' And, urging his plea with increas-
ing vehemence, he added “And let her do it this zery night.” That
‘very night,’ these verses were flashed into my mind; while he was
‘yet speaking,' four hundred miles away, they were written and V
dated. Does not this show the ‘reality’ of prayer F. R. H.”
148 MEMOA&AES OF F. R. H.
- - ---> * * *-*-*==mºsº
WHITEy, September.
& So singular ! you know I have not been able
to write verses at all for a long time, but reading a
naughty article in — set me going, and I wrote
“Without Carefulness.” Curiously enough, it was
written just in time for the International Women's
Christian Association Conference at New York, I was
invited to this, and if I could not come, to write a poem
to be read at it. I was going to answer “I can't write
a line,” when this came to me, and it will reach the
committee just in time, though I did not write it with
that intention. Then Mr. Shaw lent a copy to a friend,
and reply came asking permission by telegraph to use it
at another Conference. Had the article reached me a
day later, it would have been too late for both !
Does not this look like God's hand? It seemed like
coming back into the stream again, out of the shadowy
pool of silent waiting. Somehow, I don’t feel enough
physical strength to be at all eager to get into the current
at present. º
WHITBY, October 1875.
DEAREST G––.
g º I hope to be at home the end of next week
(but don’t publish it, as I can’t see everybody immedi-
ately on arriving).
Mamma is better, but has been so ill that it was a
question whether she could reach England. I am so
thankful for her. -
For myself, I have not been ill, though often poorly,
since my last relapse in June; but I decidedly do not
get strong, and am not nearly so strong as before my ill-
ness, even under these most favourable circumstances of
bracing air, and nobody that must be seen, and nothing
that mºst be done; so I am hardly likely to get any
stronger at Leamington. I can do a little, write an hour
THE OZI) FRIEAVO’S ZAZ TTER. I 49
or two, see one or two people, sing one song, go to
church once on Sunday and subside all the rest of the
day; but that is the length of my tether. I came upon
some verses which seem just to express it,
YI am not eager, bold or strong,
All that is past;
I’m ready not to do,
At last, at last.
“My half-day's work is almost done,
'Tis all my part;
I bring my patient God
A patient heart?
For I am quite satisfied to do half-day's work hence-
forth, if He pleases; and well I may be when I have
plenty of proof that (He can make a half-hour’s work
worth a whole day's if He will: yes, or half-a-minute's
either ||
. . . . So curious your praise meeting (Young
Women's Christian Association) being November 19th,
for it will be the anniversary of my very worst day last
year. You can’t think how much I am looking forward
to being at a meeting again, and to seeing you, and a few
other special Y. W. C. A.'s. But I shall always have an
idea that I was prayed back from the golden gates I
can't think why God always so graciously lets me see
such heaps of reasons for every trial He sends me. Why,
as to this year of calling apart, I wouldn't have done
without it if I could, and I couldn't have done without it
if I would ; it seems to be a consummately wisely sent
and wisely timed trial (only that I hardly like to use that
word for it, except perhaps as regards the physical pain).
I want to tell everybody, now, that they need “fear no "
evil.”
On page 4 we have already referred to our dear father's
curate, Rev. F. Jeffery, and his recollection of the early
birthday crown of bay-leaves. That reference will make
clear the allusions in the following letter:
Q.
I SO M/EAf0/2ZAZS OF F. R. W.
Pecember 1875.
DEAR MR. JEFFERY,-
If you only knew the gush of early recollections your
beautiful little verses” brought up ! my birthday wreaths,
and dear papa's and mamma's birthday kisses and wishes,
which I always felt meant a great deal more than I could
possibly understand. And now the Lord hath led me,
not quite, but pretty nearly, the “forty years,” though
only the very old friends give me credit for much beyond
thirty. -
How kind of you to recollect the little chit! And how
I should like to thank you personally for the pleasant re-
membrance . But I must tell you how refreshing it is,
quite apart from the sentiment, to come across such
trochaics. It is rarely that I light on such, among the
thousands of hymns I have gone over in my work of
“Songs of Grace and Glory;” yours have such a perfect
ringing rhythm as very few seem to hit upon now-a-days.
I have just begun to work a little, as a sort of “half
timer” (to use the factory expression), after twelve
* The following are the verses referred to.
To F. R. H., on Her Birthday, December 14th, 1875.
“Non sine Diis animosus infans.”—Horace.
FANNY, canst thou still remember
How, of old, they kept this day?
How they marked thy fourth December,
Crowning thee with wreath of bay ?
“Child belov'd, these leaves poetic
Hence shall aye to thee belong,
Wear them as a wreath prophetic
Of the Ministry of Song.”
Say not now thy task is ended;
3. Sing the lovely, pure, and true ;
Sing until thy verse is blended
With the song for ever new.
F. J.
ATA/DAVESS OF FR/EAV/).S. I 51
months of “calling apart:” typhoid fever, which, with
relapses and results, kept me ill for eight months, and
part of the time very suffering, and then four months of
very slow convalescence. But it has been the most
precious year of my life to me. It is worth any suffering
to prove for oneself the truth of tº when thou passest
through the waters I will be with thee,” and worth being
turned back (as it seemed) from the very golden gates,
if one may but “tell of His faithfulness.” It is so real.
Your own signature, dear Mr. Jeffery, makes the verses
doubly valuable, written “in the shadow” (your darkness
is the shadow of His hand). I do feel so much for you in
your blindness How I should like to come and sing to
you ! My dear mother is very bright in spirits but very
suffering in body.
Yours affectionately.
PYRMONT WILLA, December 14, 1875.
My DEAR E }
Nothing surprised me so much as, and nothing pleased
me more than, your beautiful flowers and card. I have
had a battle with mamma as to where they are to go; she
thinks them too good for her room, where I wanted to
have the pleasure of putting them. However, I think
I have won 1 Thank you so much for them. I must
tell you why they are such special pleasure : because I
don’t think you would have sent them if you had just
simply hated all I said the other day. Dear , I
never told you, but you can't think how I have longed
for you ever since I first saw you. I have prayed for
you again and again. I want you for Jesus ! It is not
only that I want you to be safe in Him, I do want that ;
but I want you to be altogether His own, knowing all
the sweet peace of being His very own, and using all
your bright days for Him. I want you to be “all for
Jesus.” I do so long for you to give Him your heart
and life now, so that you might never have the terrible
sorrow of having only a death-bed to give Him And I
I52 AMEMOA’AAAS OF AZ. R. A.
am sure He wants you; really and truly now, at this very
moment, is waiting for you, and wanting you to come to
Him and let Him show you His “exceeding great love.”
There are so few comparatively that are on His side:
won't you be one P If you could see Him now, this
minute, waiting for you, you wouldn’t like to keep Him
waiting I am sure; and you wouldn't and couldn't think
about anything else till you had heard what He, Jesus,
your real Saviour, wanted to say to you. Dear child,
I have asked my own dear Master to give me some
token of His love on my birthday : shall it be this, that
He will call you, so call you that you shall come to Him .
and “find rest P”
Your loving friend.
Mention should be made of the kindness of many
Leamington friends constantly shown to both our dear
mother and Frances. But it is impossible even to give
outline of any such, or the names of most valued friends,
whose ceaseless ministry threw flowers of sympathy on
paths of weariness and suffering,
C H A P T E R XI.
(1876.)
“The Turned Lesson”—Patient work—Sympathy with E. C.,
going to India — Upton Bishop Vicarage — The brother's
organ and last singing — The last visit to Switzerland —
“Seulement four Zoi" — Bible reading to peasants —
The Great St. Bernard — Champèry — Baroness Helga von
Cramm—Alpine Cards—Illness at Pension Wengen—Return
Home—“My King”—Pruning.
“WAs it not kinder the task to turn,
Than to let it pass, -
As a lost, lost leaf that she did not learn ?
Is it not often so,
That we only learn in part,
And the Master's testing-time may show
That it was not quite “by heart?”
Then He gives, in His wise and patient grace,
That lesson again
With the mark still set in the self-same place,” “
HERE were many “turned lessons” in my dear
sister's life to which no clue can be given in
• these Memorials; but we may here refer to one testing:
time, Very patiently had she prepared for press many
sheets of manuscript music in connection with the
Appendix to “Songs of Grace and Glory.” Well do I
* The Turned Lesson, in “Under His Shadow,” page 113.
153
154 MEMORIA LS OF F. R. A.
remember the day it was completed. We were at home,
and she came down from her study with a large roll for
post, and with holiday glee exclaimed, “There it is all
done ! and now I am free to write a book 1" Only a
week passed, when the post brought her the news:
“Messrs. Henderson's premises were burned down this
morning about four o'clock. We fear the whole of the
stereotypes of your musical edition are destroyed, as
they were busy printing it. It will be many days before
the débris will be sufficiently cooled to ascertain how the
stereotype plates stand.”
Further news confirmed the loss: “Your musical
edition, together with the paper sent for printing it,
has been totally destroyed.” On the same sheet Frances
wrote to her sisters in Worcestershire :
The signification hereof to me is that, instead of
having finished my whole work, I have to begin again
de novo, and I shall probably have at least six months
of it. The greater part of the manuscript of my Appen-
dix is simply gone, for I had kept no copy whatever, and
have not even a list of the tunes 1 Every chord of my
own will have to be reproduced; every chord of any
one else re-examined and revised. All through my
previous “Songs of Grace and Glory” work, and my own
books, I had always taken the trouble to copy off every
correction on to a duplicate proof; but, finding I never
gained any practical benefit, I did not (as I considered)
waste time in this case ! Of most of the new work, which
has cost me the winter's labour, I have not even a memor-
andum left, having sent everything to the printers. How-
ever it is so clearly “Himself hath done it,” that I can
only say “Thy way not mine, O Lord.” I only tell you
how the case stands, not as complaining of it, only
because I want you to ask that I may do what seems
drudgery quite patiently, and that I may have health
enough for it, and that He may overrule it for good. It
&
WOAZAZIAWG IAV 7"HE SHADE. 155
may be that He has more to teach me, before He sets
me free to write the two books to which N alludes,
and which I hoped to have begun directly. Perhaps they
will be all the better because I cannot now write them
for next season. Thus I am suddenly shut off from the
bright stream of successful writing, and stopped in all my
own plans for this spring, and bid work a few months
longer in the shade at what is to me special exercise of"
quiet patience. . . . I have thanked Him for it more
than I have prayed about it. It is just what He did with
me last year, it is another turned lesson. I had mourned
over not bearing pain in my first illness, and so He gave
me another opportunity of learning the lesson by sending
me another painful illness, at Winterdyne, instead of
giving me up as a hopeless pupil; and now I have been
eager to get done with “Songs of Grace and Glory” that
I might hurry on to begin work of my own choosing and
planning, and so He is giving me the opportunity over
again of doing it more patiently, and of making it the Y
“willing service” which I don't think it was before. It
I could not rejoice in letting Him do what He will with
me, when He thus sends me such very marked and
individual dealing, I should feel that my desire for
sanctification, for His will to be done in me, had been Ny
merely nominal, or fancied and not real.
(To Miss E. /. Whately.)
One must be an infidel not to see God's hand upon
one, most distinctly, in such a matter as this. But it
was very good of Him to give me the opportunity of
learning the unlearnt lesson, and of offering, as more
willing service, what had been unwilling. I must tell
you, however, how overwhelmingly gracious He has
been to me the last few days, quite startling me. I
thought it had been such a useless spring, that I had
not been allowed to be any service to any one. Then
all at once, during three days, a number of notes poured
in upon me, quite astonishing me with telling that I had
1:6 Aſ 3.}/OAºA.4 LS OA” A. R. H.
been made such real use and blessing, in some cases
quite unconsciously, in others where I thought my efforts
had produced little or no effect. . . . Now, is not
this enough to make one's heart overflow with praise P. It
has been a most sweet lesson of trust, and of more simple
and absolute dependence on Him.
(To J. T. W.)
PyRMont VILLA, March 21, 1876.
DEAR FRIEND,-- -
Your letter, which I was providentially prevented from
reading before breakfast, sent me straight away to my
knees. I have been putting it all into my Saviour's hands,
pouring out to Him, I don't feel cured, but I believe
He has taken me into His hands afresh. No, it has
not been all for Him of late; I don't mean anything
definite, but breaches in the enclosure, made not by any
outward foe or even “the religious world,” but by self,
which I wanted to be crushed out of me, that He might
take its place wholly. I think that has been the “some-
thing between,” and it has dimmed not only the inner
brightness, but the free-hearted testimony. It is so
utterly horrid not to have been all for Him. I do feel
ready to say “sinners of whom I am chief,” and no
expressions of self bemoaning are too strong for me. He
has been so much to me, so very, very gracious; and yet
I have wandered, without knowing it except by finding
that He withdrew the brightness of His shining,
graciously so, because I felt the chill; and yet, at times,
off and on, it has even of late been very bright, very
happy, only it has not been the steady and growing
brightness. Thank you very much for telling me how
it is with you; that helps, because I have to do with the
“same Jesus.” ( I want Him to prove to me the very
depths, to “search and try” and cleanse entirely.) I am
glad He did not set me free to write. I distinctly
believe it to be His holding me back from teaching
before I am taught ! I am so grateful for your letter, it
'• SEA ACA. Aſ A: 4 ATP TR V Aſ E.” ; 57
is so good of Him to put it into your heart to watch over
me. Will you pray for me? I imagined I had thought
much of the “keep,” as well as of the “take,” but I have
not lived it somehow. I know you must feel disap.
pointed with me; I have not “run well” as you hoped,
but don't give me up and throw me overboard alto-
gether, pray for me, and “watch over me” still for
the dear Master's sake, for I know He has not thrown
me overboard, and oh I do love Him. Thanks for the
card; I thought it was “none of self and all of Thee.”
I have immense temptations, I don’t mean that as any
excuse, only it is so; temptations to self seeking and self
complacency, etc.; and I am made too much of, looked e
up to by plenty who should rather look down on me,
both here and by strangers; and I thought I was on my
guard against it all; and yet I see it has insensibly
undermined the “enclosure,” even though I have beer
having exceptionally great outward privileges. I wonder
whether one thing has been wrong ! I have been, for
some time, nearly every day giving half an hour to
careful reading of Shakespeare; I felt as if I rather
wanted a little intellectual bracing, as if something of
contact with intellect were necessary to prevent my
getting into a weak and wishy-washy kind of thought and
language. I like intellects to rub against, and have no
present access to books which would do it; so I bethought
myself of seeing what Shakespeare would do for me, and
I think my motive was really that I might polish my own
instruments for the Master's use. But there is so much
that is entirely of the earth earthy, amid all the marvellous
genius and even the sparkles of the highest truth which
flash here and there, so much that jars upon one's spirit,
so much that is downward instead of upward; that it has
crossed me whether I am not trusting an arm of flesh in
seeking intellectual benefit thus. Yet, on the other hand,
if one admits the principle, one would throw over all means
as to study and mental culture, and it does really seem as
a rule as if God endorsed those means, and uses culti-
vated powers, and only very exceptionally uses the un-
cultured ones. Yours gratefully.
Is& MEMORIA LS OF AZ. R. A.
(To F. A. S.)
LEAMINGTON, February 16, 1876.
I hope you have had a happy week, dear F *
Only you must not let the temptation come, to fancy that
He cannot, or will not, be as much to you afterwards as
He perhaps was to you during the special week; for, to
begin with, “He faileth not,” “I change not.” He will
be every day “this same Jesus;” and, to go on with, your
whole Bible does not contain one word about His giving
less grace, but always and only “more grace.” If He
gave you blessing last week, it is only an earnest of
MORE, if you “open your mouth,” etc. “Always more
to follow.” Your loving aunt.
(7% / 7. W.)
THE LEAsowes, AAzil 9, 1876.
It seems to come natural to send you whatever odds
and ends come out, so I enclose this last leaflet, “I
could not do without Him.” I very seldom write at the
suggestion of another, but a London worker said she so
wanted an appeal to the outsiders based on my hymn “I
could not do without Thee.” So I told her she must
pray if she wanted it, and I forthwith forgot all about it.
Three months after, a most strong and sudden sense
came over me of “what can they, what will they, do
without Jesus?” that I must write it; and it was not
until afterwards I recollected that this was the very
thing that had been asked. And, on sending it, I found
it was just at the right time for her special wish to dis-
tribute it before one of Mr. Aitken's mission weeks It
will be in Home Vords for June, which means going
straight to 3oo, ooo homes, let alone leaflets and American
copies. Somehow, I have felt able to ask great blessings
on this leaflet, though it is such a poor little simple thing,
without a spark of poetry about it.
Yours ever gratefully
CRITYCISM. I 59
I got just a glimpse of the marvellous indwelling of
Afather, Son, and Holy Ghost last week; it was so sweet
and glorious; I want to realize it always.
(To J. G. Kirchhoffer.)
April 9.
DEAREST JULIA,-
You deserve an immense long letter, and I have really
only time for a few lines, as I am giving up my whole
available time to work at the new edition of “Songs of
Grace and Glory.” Though your letter-case looks too
pretty to use, yet I immediately adopted it for unanswered
letters, putting in yours to begin with. Yours must be
indeed a pretty home. It is not just words, but both
wish and prayer, that it may be a happy one to you, and
that you may make many around you happy and happier.
Of course I mean this in the very fullest and deepest
sense. Ever since I knew you, I have specially wished
and prayed that you might entirely live for Jesus, and
shine very brightly for Him. And you have immense
responsibilities.
Why not work out your “plan of education” as a
little ballad P I think it would be a capital subject, and
might be really useful. Send it to the Editor of The
Children's Friend. (S. W. Partridge & Co.)
As to imperfect scanning, I must try to answer seriously,
for it is rather important to you. Never leave imperfect
scanning, to save the trouble of making it perfect, never /
Discipline yourself for the next few years most sternly in
this, and you will be thankful, later on, for the habit and
facility which it will give you. But irregular scanning
may be used with great artistic effect, where you pur-
posely wish to suggest abrupt, broken, startling, rugged,
spasmodic, etc., effects. A good critic will easily detect
the difference between the devices of an artist and the
negligence or clumsiness of a tyro in this matter.
I have an idea that metre answers to key in music,
and that one may introduce modulation of metre exactly
\,
I6O A/E,}/OR/AXS OF A. ſº. AE,
- - - -- *-------------- - -—. -- ==---
as one introduces modulation of key, and with similar
mental effect. I have tried it in several recent longish
poems, using different metres for different parts, and
modulating from one into the other instead of passing
directly. You will see what I mean in “The Sowers,”
where, instead of jumping direct into the rather jubilant
metre of the last part, I work up to it through “One by
one no longer,” etc.
I must not scribble more. Yours lovingly.
(To the same.)
PyRMONT WILLA, Monday.
EAR JULIA,-
How I do wish I had known It would have been the
most exquisite pleasure to have come to sing to you.
I know that longing for music so well, though I do not
think many know what it is. Sometimes I have thought
that this very “music-thirst” is part of God's gentle
discipline, leaving us with that thirst instilled, just that
we may turn afresh to that which stills all longings, the
music of His name. I have had plenty of verses headed
“F. R. H.,” but I am telling you the truth when I say that
I never had any which touched me more, or gave me
such a thrill of loving fellow-feeling towards the writer,
Thank you very much for sending them to me.
Now I have a request. Will you give me a copy of
your extremely good verses on the recovery of the Prince
of Wales P
(To the same.)
Many thanks, not only for the enclosure, but for your
most amusing note.
N.B.-It is only fair to tell you that you and Ellen
Lakshmi Goreh are the solitary ones, out of any number
of dozen possible geniuses, whose “efforts” I have seen
or had to do with, in whom I do believe. I have come
across no others who, I honestly believe, may have a
“future” in the literary part of the vineyard. This may
A SPAECIA Z AA 7"ZZAZ-FIAE//D. I61
*~
show you I am not quite indiscriminate 1 and perhaps
add weight to the encouragement which I want to give
you, and the seriousness of the hope and aim before you.
My sister's expectations were correct; but Miss
Kirchhoffer's early death left, as it were, only a pre-
lude to what might have been a life of song.”
The following shows how faithfully she pointed out the
inconsistency of some conversation.
My DEAR 9 Tuesday, 7 a.m.
As I have already had one bad night, and several
troubled wakings, all about you, I had better get it off my
mind. I write to you as one who is really wanting to
follow Jesus altogether, really wanting to live and speak
ExACTLY according to His commands and His beautiful
example; and when this is the standard, what seems a
little thing, or nothing at all, to others, is seen to be sin,
because it is disobeying His dear word and not “follow.
ing fully.” “Whatsoever ye would that men should do
unto you, do ye even so to them.”
Now, darling, be true to yourself, and to Him, as to
these His own words. Would you like any one to retail,
and dwell upon, little incidents which made you appear =
weak, tiresome, capricious, foolish P. Yet, dear, every-
thing which we say of another which we would not like
them to say of us (unless said with some right and pure
object which jesus Himself would approve), is trans-
gression of this distinct command of our dear Lord's,
and therefore sin, sin which needs nothing less than
His blood to cleanse, sin in which we indulge at our
peril and to the certain detriment of our spiritual life.
And Jesus hears every word, and sees, to the depth, the N/
want of real conformity to His own loving spirit, from
*hich they spring. Do not think I am condemning you
* “Poems and Essays.” By Julia G. M. Kirchhoffer. Paisley
§. and R. Parlane.
H.
* 62 ME}#ORIA LS OF F. R. H.
§
§
without seeing my own failures. It is just because it is a
special battle-field of my own that I am the more pained
and quick to feel it, when others, who love Jesus, yield to
the temptation or do not see it to be temptation. I
know the temptation it is to allow oneself to say things
which one would not say if the person were present, yes,
and if Jesus were visibly present. And I have seen and
felt how even a momentary indulgence in the mildest
forms of “speaking evil,” which is so absolutely forbidden,
injures one's own soul, and totally prevents clear, un-
clouded communion with Jesus. So I want you to
recognise and shun and resolutely and totally “put
away” this thing.
I should not write all this but that I long for your
eyes to be opened to the principle, for other's sakes, for
your own soul's sake, and for Christ's sake. I want you
to pray over it, to search bravely to the bottom, and to
put it all into the hands, of Jesus, that He may not only
forgive but cleanse, and so fill you with His love that it
(and nothing else) may overflow into all your words)
that He may “make you to increase and abound in love
• . to the end [He may establish your heart
unblameable in holiness." Oh, if you knew how I pray
for this for myself, you would not wonder at my anxiety
about it for you and for others So don't be vexed with,
Yours ever lovingly.

(To E. C.) 1876.
. . . This seems a great and solemn step. I could
never lift up my finger against what looks so like a
call from God, though you would seem a long way off
from us, and would be much mourned and missed from
your Bewdley work. You know how I have always
desired, with you, to lay out one's life at the best interest
from God; and, of course, if you can do ten per cent. of
work at Rome, and only five per cent, among the Severn
fogs, that is to my mind a strong argument. ... I
send you “I will direct their work in truth,” and He will
direct, Have you thought of work in Syria P
M.A. TTER.S. 153
(To the same.)
Although dear Miss Nott told me she thought you were
thinking of Zenana work in India, I did not expect this
Whether Rome or India, I quite think you are one of
those so situated that you are “free to serve,” and that
the question may be wholly between you and God. . tº
I am specially glad it is that Society; it is decidedly my
favourite, and I have been interested in it for fifteen
years. Dear Elizabeth, I feel so solemnly glad about all
this; I myself seem, more and more, a “cumberer,” so
I am the more glad when others are able for more
service than
Yours lovingly.
(To the same.)
. . (It often strikes me as one of the wonderful
wheels of God's providence that He lays different parts
of His work on different hearts, brings one nearer to the
focus of one worker's vision and another to another, and
thus all the different things get taken up] . . . I had
only thought of the disappointment it would be, if you
were prevented going to India I suppose, partly, be-
cause I do not feel separation so keenly as you would,
and partly because all my life it has been a sort of
“castle in the air” to be a missionary, only that the door
for me seemed always closed by the state of my health;
and, even with my many ties, it would be nothing like
the sacrifice to me that it will be to you. I shall long to
hear that the Lord has made the way quite clear, and set
before you an open door.
June 1876. During a visit to her brother Frank, at
Upton Bishop Vicarage, she was much interested in his
schools and cottages. Every day she went about from
house to house, reading the Bible and telling in simple
words of God's love in sending Jesus Christ to save
sinners.
In one instance, at a garden party, my sister's happy
164 AMAZ MORIAES OF F. R. H.
face attracted a young stranger, so that she sought
conversation with her. Often have I been told : “F. R.
H. looks so really happy, she must have something we
have not.” (With the utmost skill, no artist or photo-
graph gives a real idea of her lighted up expression. Is
it because soul cannot be represented any more than a
Sunbeam P) And my £en fails, too, in giving an idea to
strangers of her sunny ways, merrily playing with chil-
dren and heartily enjoying all things. But her deep
sympathy with others' joys and sorrows, and her loyal
longings that all should know the “joy unspeakable
and full of glory,” were the secret of her influence with
others. +
I may mention that her singing from Handel's
“Messiah,” accompanying herself on her brother's organ,
after service on her last Sunday evening at Upton
Bishop, will long be remembered by all who heard.
The old parish clerk remarked, “I never heard the
like of that before.” Frances then became the first
contributor to a fund for erecting a vestry. (Since hel
death it has been determined that this vestry shall be
specially “in memory of F. R. H.” Her brother has
also had her name cast in a new treble bell, thus com-
pleting the peal of six.)
Her own words seem to describe passing events and
visits better than others can, and therefore we again
copy from them.
(To Margaret W.)
. . . I came to Newport with the idea of not
being responsible for any one's soul at all ! I enjoyed
the first three days in a general sort of way, but no real
gain to myself. I declined addressing the Y. W. C. A.
meeting, but was present and was asked to sing. I sang
my arrangement of Isaiah xii. After a few more words,
WOAA AAWD VISITA TVOAV. 165
&=m
and prayer from Mr. W-, I sang for them “When thou
passest.”” After that I had to shake hands with many.
It was all very nice, but not real work. I felt dissatisfied,
notwithstanding the affectionate greetings and thanks for
singing. Saturday I said I should like to go to work, and
went with Mr. W to the Infirmary. In the women's
ward I read and prayed and sang, and then spoke to
each alone. I saw there was sowing and reaping work
wanted, and many entreated me to come again. When
I went again God sent much blessing. One, very suffer-
ing, and who had a most distressed expression the day
before, had found peace soon after I left her. She lay
looking so happy, saying, “I’ve left it all with Him now,
and of it's so beautiful?" Another, a moping groping
Christian, told me that the words God helped me to say
to her lifted her straight up into the sunlight. Before I
left the ward, I do think another was enabled by God's
Spirit to trust in the Lord Jesus. From that time, it
pleased God to send such continuous blessing. But (I
hardly know how it began, I think from my own couplet
“. let me sing, Always, only, for my King,” in
connection with that Thursday evening) somehow I
felt that on both sides, singer and listeners, it was
not really “only for Him,” but too much of F. R. H.
That word “only” seemed to be pressed on my own
heart. I saw it as I never saw it before, and that the
“all for Jesus” must be supplemented and sealed with
“only for Jesus.” It was a great and humbling revela-
tion to me of failure in full consecration, where I really
did not see it before ; and of course I dare not and
would not hold back from accepting and following, at
any cost, what I felt God's Holy Spirit was teaching me.
I felt I could not, and would not, sing again the next
Thursday as before, and that I must pass on this
“only” to the Y. W. C. A. Then I had copies printed
of the Consecration Hymn, and had my name left out,
* “When thou Passest through the Waters.” Music by F. R. H. *
London: Hutchings and Romer.
wº
I66 MAEAMOA’I.A.A.S OF F. R. F.
.*-*==
and a blank line instead for the signature, which each
might fill up alone and prayerfully.
At the meeting, Mr. W opened it and then went
away. Then I told them I had meant to sing them
beautiful songs of Handel, but I could not and dare not;
that I could not, after what my King had shown me last
week, sing even partly to please them, it must be “only
for my King.” Then I told them about this “only,” not
merely totality of surrender but exclusiveness of allegiance,
and how I wanted every one there to take this step with
me that night, and to accept with me “ONLY for Jesus,”
as our life motto, henceforth. To keep my word as to
singing, I just sang “Precious Saviour, may I live only
for Thee”* (to “Onesimus”). After prayer, I resumed
the subject and then distributed the Consecration Hymns
(very systematically done in one minute without dis-
turbance); and, after running through it, asked those
and those only to sign their names who meant it. Oh,
M , it was such singing, one felt it was so real |
Then I gave an interval of silent prayer which I felt
was a time of real consecration. I was sure of His
presence, so sure that He was bowing the hearts before
Him by the Holy Spirit's power, Was it not strange
that the first “consecration meeting” I ever came in for
should have been in my own hands P
After, I gave each at the door “Enough.” I hardly
liked giving my own leaflets, but I really couldn't think
of anything else just suitable for what I wanted. One,
whom I had spoken to after church on Sunday evening,
stayed to tell me how bright her hope continued; but
she needn't have spoken, the change of expression was
quite enough to tell, Well, dear M , I felt there had
been real blessing.
As days went on, Mr. and Mrs. W–– saw numbers
of those who were there, and who testified that they
had really been helped and had gained a step onward
by God's grace.
27 * Hymn 695 in “Songs of Grace and Glory.”
S WITZA, RFAAWD. 167
Then, I could tell you much of some dear boys who
had never unfurled their banners, or done any work for
their King (I always thought I had no notion how to go
to work with boys, and this has often hindered me from
trying; that idea is overboard now). With these young
soldiers it was a sort of leap into “life more abundantly,”
a going just headlong into life and love and work for
Jesus. After a week of prayer, one has decided to give
his whole life, instead of the chips and shavings of it,
and become a medical missionary. Now they are pray-
ing for others; they have pitched upon the worst boy in
the school, and asked me to join in special prayer for
him. The most remarkable feature is the way they took
to their Bibles, and, though holiday time, spent four
or five hours a day with intensest enjoyment over them.
* I never thought of asking a tenth part of all the
blessing I received there since then. I shall have to
lump my requests for praise at your next Y. W. C. A.
meeting.
I must pass on to you what I have been rejoicing in
all this week, Exodus xxi. 5, “I love my Master, I will
not go out free;” and then connect the end of verse, 6
with Revelation xxii. 3, “shall serye Him” for ever. I
can't imagine why I never exulted in that declaration
before, “I love my Master 1"
After leaving Newport, she went to Ashley Moor; and,
while enjoying breezy rides and drives and delightful
friendships, she did not forget work for her King. She
has left a Sunbeam track in many cottages in that neigh-
bourhood.
Year after year, my dear sister had pressed me to take
a long rest in Switzerland; and so, on July 11th, 1876, we
left England, via Dieppe, for Lausanne. That delightful
journey ! her sisterly care and unselfishness in revisiting
well-known places just to give me the pleasure | It was
with difficulty I persuaded her to go to any new scenes
I63 : "EMORIAA.S OF F. R. F.
for herself. From Montreux she went up to “Les
Avants” to visit her “delightful friend,” Miss E. J.
Whately. From Vernayaz we went to a quiet pension
at Fins Haut, en route to Argentière.
Sunday, July 16.—This afternoon Frances wrote the
hymn, “I love, I love my Master.” She was led to
think of this subject in consequence of a previous
arrangement when staying with her sister at Winterdyne.
Mrs. Shaw had been teaching her Sunday Morning's
Bible Class, Exodus xxi. 5, and during the day said to
Frances, “What a grand subject for a hymn this would
be Next Sunday you will be resting in Switzerland,
and I shall pray for you between three and four P.M.,
that you may be taught what to write.” The result
shows how constantly F.'s hymns were an answer to
prayer for God's teaching. It is remarkable that her sister,
Mrs. Shaw, wrote a sweet hymn on the same subject,
during the fury of a terrific thunder-storm, identically at
the same hour with Frances. (Published by Caswell.)
Sunday, July 23. – The sight of crowds of peasants
passing by our door to early mass suggested the desire to
try a Bible address for them in the afternoon. Valerie,
the daughter of our host, had been so fascinated by my
sister's singing that, with the promise that Mdlle. would
sing to the meeting, she threw herself heartily into the
arrangement. Three o'clock was the time fixed, but an
hour before several maidens assembled, so we set them
to copy out a French hymn Frances had just written,
thereby fixing its truths in their memory; and they then
practised it as a choir. Frances shall tell the rest.
(To J. T. W.)
About thirty or forty came ; some remained in a room
behind our folding doors, these came from curiosity and
SWITZERAAAWA). 169
would not come inside, and there was laughing and talk-
ing, evidently led by the priest's servant who was there
for no good | First I sang to them, and then got the
girls to join in the hymn they had copied out. Then I
read some passages from Romans, and Maria spoke
to them beautifully (in French) on Romans vi. 23, and
afterwards prayed.
A few went away as soon as I began to read, there was
evidently some opposition. Even those who seemed
really to wish to hear were evidently hindered by the
total novelty of the whole thing : an intensified form of
the hindrance which I told you I felt existed when I first
sang at N You will wonder what I sang ! Well, I
had been singing snatches of hymns to myself, and
especially “Only for Thee,” and found this gave im-
mense gratification in our little pension ; so I thought
God could as well give me French as English, if He
would, and I set to and wrote “Seulement pour Zoi /* (as
they had liked the tune so much.) Only it is quite a
different hymn, making prominent the other side, He and
He ONLY is and does all for us. We come to the Father
“only by Thee,” place our trust “only in Thee ;” retain-
ing merely a few lines of the “only for Thee,” as it is
useless to teach “only for Thee” till one has seen “only
by Thee.” I also wrote a free imitation of “Will ye not
come P” and part of another. I could write quite easily
in French verse ! so it may be I shall have to do some
more in this direction, a totally new opening !
Maria had had the priest himself strongly on her mind
all the week; and, not having the smallest fear of man,
actually went and called on him 1 with the excuse of
borrowing a French Bible, and asking him to see if my
verses were correct. Just imagine going to “M. le Curé”
for a Bible, and for revision of Protestant hymns ! He
was very courteous, and Maria relieved her mind en-
tirely; told him how happy she was in Christ, and what
was the secret of peace and joy. He did not attempt
controversy, and seemed interested, but only assented to
all she said, so that she could not get him to open out,
17o MEMORYA/S OF Aº R. H.
As for taking readings myself, the prospect seems to
recede. Even taking part in this little meeting seemed to
throw me back. For years, I have always suffered from
any work of the kind, and then been made unable for my
own more special work, as I never produce a line when
overdone. And I find more distinctly, here, that I have
not anything like my former strength, and even three
weeks (by which time other years I have got into tip-top
training) have not brought me up to where I used to
start from. All the old elasticity and physical strength
are gone. I don't feel the “atmospheric salvolatile,” and
go out on the freshest of Swiss mornings feeling up to
nothing instead of equal to anything / Yet it is thirteen
months since I was really cured from my illness.
Leaving the Chamounix valley for the Great St. Ber-
nard Hospice, we took diligence from Osière. The pas-
sengers sung some French songs remarkably well. We
listened and commended, and then asked if they would
join us in a new tune, “Seulement four Toi,” Finding
the driver took up the chorus in bass, Frances went out-
side that he might see the words, and most heartily was
it sung by all. Sunday we rested at the hospice. The
weather was fine, and the crowds of peasants who partook
of that wonderful hospitality were sitting on the rocks in
all directions, and of course many a seed was cast among
them. My sister's brilliant touch on the piano in the
saloon attracted the good fathers, and they requested that,
after dinner, she would sing for the assembled strangers.
She asked me to pray that she might give the King's
message in song, and that it might reach some hearts,
As there were different nationalities present, she very
simply but gracefully said she was going to sing from the
Holy Scriptures, repeating the words in German and
Italian, and then sang Handel's “Comfort ye,” “He
shall feed His flock,” and afterwards “Rest in the Lord.”
Barovºss HELGA v. CRAMM. 171
An Italian professor of music with many others thanked
her, and were expressing their admiration to me when
Frances bade them “Good night,” saying to me, “You see,
Marie, I gave my message, and so it is better to come away.”
Returning from the hospice we diverged to Lac de Champè,
thence to Martigny and Champèry. There we met her
Leamington friends, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers (of St. Paul’s);
Mr. Rogers was, then, summer chaplain at Champéry.
I could testify of much happy work here, in leading
others to rejoice in God her Saviour: strangers, invalids,
tourists, to all she was a shining light. And she was
never satisfied with any one's profession, without a cor-
responding life for Christ and work for Christ. I may give
the testimony of one, as representing that of many others.
I feel sure that God led us to Champèry that we
might meet your dear sister Frances. Oh, I cannot tell
what a blessing she was to me there. I always looked
for those fair curls; and the saloon seemed desolate if I
could not hear her voice and often merry laugh. She
was so happy and whole-hearted, and she spoke to me of
the Lord Jesus, and the joy of being altogether and only
His. Yes, it was on the balcony at Champèry that a
new life and love seemed lighted up in my soul. Even
as she was speaking to me I felt that, with God's grace,
I must take the same step she had, and henceforth live
“only for Jesus.” That was indeed turning over a per-
fectly new and bright page in my life.
Another Champèry friendship was with the Baroness
Helga von Cramm. We were staying in the same
pension; and a few words the first time we met her
resulted in many pleasant entwinings of work. I give my
sister's reference to the fact, in a letter to Mr. W–.
One of my Champèry gains was the Baroness Helga
v. Cramm; such an artiste, every picture is a poem, such
172 MEMORYA/S OF F. R. A.
a soul in all she paints; her two specialities are Alpine
scenery with the weirdest effects of snow and clouds, and
the marvellous beauty of the tiny Alpine flowers. Well
now, of course, she wants to paint for Jesus somehow !
So I suggested that we might do something together,
and we would first ask Him to give me half-a-dozen nice
little Easter verses (new ground to me !), and then that He
would hold her hand, and make her do some exquisite
flowers. So the verses all came tumbling in that evening !
Such was the origin of the varied series of lovely
“Alpine cards,” subsequently published by Caswell.
Leaving Champèry, we went to the Bernese Oberland.
Our longest sojourn was in the Pension Wengen, above
Lauterbrunnen, just opposite Mürren, with the full range
of the Jungfrau and Silberhorn in view. Getting wet
through in a thunderstorm was followed by a chill, and my
dear sister was seriously ill for a month. The Laueners
were most kind, and we were happy in having the pension
to ourselves and being favoured with brilliant weather.
Two or three pages from my notebook recall our often
pleasant talks, and the two following letters are about the
same date.
September 3oth, a.m. I found Frances with her Bible
after a wakeful night: “O Marie, I’ve just had such a
find I hope you’ve not stumbled on it.” You remem-
ber I was speaking of that delightful verse in 2 Chronicles
xxxii. 8, ‘the people rested themselves upon the words of
the King;' now I have foundt“the word of my Lord the
King shall now be for rest? (margin 2 Samuel xiv. 17):
is it not lovely? it will do for one of my night pillows;
it’s a down pillow, and no rucks in it ! Of course it’s a
woman who said it; all the women in Scripture do say
excessively pretty things.”
Then she went on telling me that she thought her next
volume of poetry would be her “Nunc Dimittis” (see
Preface to “Under His Shadow"). On October 8 she
ZZ/AWESS A T PENSION WEAVGEAV, I73
had many weary hours of pain. She was so patient
in all her suffering, and very thankful for some remedies
a lady kindly brought us from Interlachen. One after-
noon, after trying a new remedy, I begged her to shut
her eyes and try to sleep. When I returned she gave
me the lines, “I take this pain, Lord Jesus.” “You see,
Marie, I know something of the sweetness of taking pain
direct from His hand. I had just been saying all this to
the Lord, and then it came to me in this hymn; it wants
no correction; I always think God gives me verse when
it comes so, and it is worth any suffering if what I write
will comfort some one at some time !” The next day
she told me: “While I was in such pain, the very lines
I’ve been waiting for came to me. Three years ago I
began some on the Queen of Sheba, and brought the
unfinished sheet here. Very often, strangers write and
tell me that my lines comfort or help them, even when I
know there is not a spark of poetry in them. Now /
cannot tell what will comfort others, so I ask God to let
me write what will do so.”
Another day she told me she hoped to write a pape:
on “Men see not the bright light that is in the clouds.”
“Dear Anne Maine suggested it to me long ago,
\Many bright young Christians have never been down
in the depths of the waves (as I have), and they wait for
some great cloud to come, instead of seeing His light in
the little, daily, home clouds Marie dear, some may
think it is presumptuous, my writing
‘For Thee my heart has never
A trustless Nay!”
But it really is so, I could not look up in His face and say,
‘Nay, my Lord, I do not trust Thee in everything.’”
(Zo Miss E. V. Whately.)
PENSION WENGEN, October 1876.
. . . I am just waiting for strength to go home; I
have been ill again, and am only arrived at the stage of
a few minutes' walk, on my sister's arm, I was splen-
I74 MEMOA’FAZS OF A. R. H.
didly better till the end of August, and meant to have
settled down to a delicious month or so of leisurely writing
out here, and then gone home to dear mamma, and
begun almost a new era of life. However, God has
chosen otherwise for me; I am just where I was this time
last year, and any book writing is indefinitely postponed.
g How glad I am that our work is not measured
by quantity, and that its results depend neither on
quantity nor quality, but only on the sovereignty of His
blessing. N . . . It was just a bit tantalizing to see
you and yet to see so little of you, there were so many
things I wanted to talk to you about. . . .
One never does have anything but sips and glimpses
here ! No fear of satiety anyhow ; we don't have a
chance of that misfortune 1 Yet the sips and glimpses
are so pleasant and so varied that, perhaps, each has
just that proportion which makes our lives the most
really enjoyable. Over and above the intense delight of
the coming perfect and leisurely intercourse above, I
think we shall almost revel in perfect power of expres-
sion. Do we ever feel that we have, either by word or
pen, expressed our whole thought, still less our whole
feeling £ And is there not a peculiar pleasure in finding
oneself able to make even the partial expression of it a
little more complete than usual? Why is it that such
pleasure seems attached to our finding power of propor-
tionate expression (of any kind) of what is surging with-
in P Is it a hint of the wonderful delight it will be
to have the totally new power of clothing, unerringly and
invariably, the infinitely expanded thoughts and intensi-
fied feelings in absolutely perfect expression, perfect
vehicle of word and song? And, then, this delight will
be met and completed by perfect understanding and
reciprocation. There must be this last, because the One
Spirit will dwell so fully and so equally in both speaker
and hearer. º
Talking of sips, what unexpected delicious little sips
one gets, sometimes, when one is really too tired for a
whole draught from His word | Yesterday I was sq
* My KTAVG,” I75
tired, just on the edge of fainting more than once from
mere weakness. I turned over the leaves for a sip, and
came upon “the word of my Lord the King shall now
be for rest” (margin). I need not tell you how it rested
me ! I am extremely fond of the typical scraps in the
history of David, but I never saw this one before.
(To Mrs. R.)
I must send you the last texts I have been dwelling
on ; the force, beauty, and sweetness of the combination
of the King and yet the Father, the kingdom and yet the
home, have struck me so much. And it is, in almost
every case, first the Father and home, then the king-
dom (Matt. xiii. 43 ; Luke xii. 32). And this royal
home of this kingly Father is yours and mine ! I suppose
you and I are fully half way to it, and the view is clearer
and nearer, and will be clearer and nearer yet !
As soon as strength was given we returned to England,
In October.
I well remember when Frances first thought of writing
“My King.” We were returning from Switzerland. Her
illness there had quite hindered any writing, and she
seemed to regret having no book ready for Christmas.
It was October 21st, we had passed Oxford Station, on
our way to Winterdyne, and I thought she was dozing,
when she exclaimed, with that herald flash in her eye,
“Marie I see it all, I can write a little book, “My
King,’” and rapidly went through divisions for thirty-one
chapters. The setting sun shone on her face; and, even
then, it seemed to me she could not be far distant from
the land of the King. Illness came on again, accompanied
by severe suffering, yet the book was quickly written and
published. We may regard the pages in “My King” as
the fruit of her patiently taking back “the turned lesson,”
which prevented her writing for so many months. The
following letters of this period speak for themselves.
Q
176 MEMORALS OF AZ. Af. Af.
(To —.)
LEAMINGTON,
I send you a prayer which I heard yesterday, and
which has been arising from my heart ever since. (“Lord,
take my lips and speak through them, take my mind and
think through it, take my heart and set it on fire !} Quite
possible for Him to do, though it seems so much to ask.
I am asking it; you ask it too. Christ's words, Christ's
thoughts, Christ's love, not our own any more How
He does love you, how His very chastening proves it !
He has not let you alone, and “Blessed is the man whom
Thou chastenest.” So, the very sense of the reality of
chastening proves the reality that you are “blessed,”
and “I wot that he whom Thou blessest is blessed.” Only
think that you are to “come forth as gold.” I wonder
what He will do with His gold when He does bring it
forth ! We shall see. He never would thus deal with
you, if He had not some very special ends to reach.
Trust on ; He is worthy of all trust, isn't He?
LEAMINGTON,
I was rejoicingly thankful that you have tasted the
delight of real spiritual work for Jesus. Perhaps He is
training you, by all this stopping of your own wishes and
aims, for something much better, for very much and very
happy work for Himself. I have no doubt about it; it
seemed such very marked individual dealing with you,
that, as He also graciously made you willing to let
Him teach you in His own way, I had not a shadow of
a doubt that He meant it to work out real and great
blessings to you. Every other aim has to be thwarted
and crossed ; our soul's health needs it. Even if seem-
ingly right and reasonable, He will not LET one whom
He really takes in hand, to make “a vessel unto honour
and meet for the Master's use,” rest in any aim short of
Himself and His glory. He knows that our real happi-
ness lies here, and He loves us so much that He sees to
it that we shall not go on “feeding on ashes,” if we are
J.A.4 RAW/AWG AAWD Aº AºS’7”/AVG. 177
feeding on them instead of on Himself. . . . [You
know He must be right, and most certainly has some;
thing better to give instead of whatever He takes away)
But I am so glad you see it, and can trust Him. It
would be too bad not to trust Him, wouldn't it? (He
will not, cannot change, even if your trust should be
weak and flickering) (2 Tim. ii. 13; Jas. i. 3, 4).
(7% / 7. W.)
AVozember 1876.
This has been a slight edition of my previous illness,
but it will be some weeks before I am really as strong as
usual. That long illness in 1874 has so weakened me,
besides seeming to have left a curious liability to fever,
which has returned so many times. But I am not
troubled about the “fallow,” and your words, “The Lord
is right, you can trust Him I know,” have not done
chiming yet! Just before this last attack I was in my
sister's conservatory watching the gardener cut off every
bunch he could find upon a splendid vine. He has
been training it for twelve years, never let it bear even
one bunch of fruit for two years, and now it is 200 feet
long in the main stem alone, and 4oo feet with the
principal branches. He has pruned off a thousand
bunches this spring, “And what do you expect it to
bear, by-and-by P” “Four hundredweight of grapes |
and, please God I live to manage it, it will be the finest
vine in the county.” He was having long patience for
fourteen years with this choice vine, and I suppose my
Husbandman's waiting with me won't be as many
months, so that is not a very long trial of trust. “My
faithful Saviour !” That seemed my one thought while
awake last night. I was delighted one day on noticing
the Greek of Jude 24, & Taſoſtovg “without stumbling,”
let alone without falling ! . . .
No, I am not “basking in the sunshine ;” it is not
bright and vivid. I seem too tired somehow, for bright-
pess; but it is not dark either. I know He is faithful,
and I am learning and resting. I think I miss outward
MI
2
*
178 A/EMORALS OF F. R. H.
helps and privileges, and having no direct work for Christ;
I know this is all right too, so I am not fidgeting about it.
I was able before this attack to go twice to church, a
short afternoon service; but the preacher's chief lesson,
from Luke xxiv., was that Jesus couldn't be always with
us, and that we must expect Him to speedily vanish out of
our sight whenever we did get one of the rare glimpses
of His presence 1 So it wasn't very enlivening, but I was
glad indeed that I knew better | Oh, I am so glad that
“alway” (Matt. xxviii. 20) means always, and that
“never” (Heb. xiii. 5) means not ever and not “only
Sometimes,” which is really about as much as I used
practically to take the words for But the “alway”
anº the “never” are always now for us, and I believe
them now just as they stand. And so, whether the day
is dull or bright, and whether my eyes are heavy or clear,
I know Jesus is with me. What a difference it does
make, doesn't it? . . . I think “The Thoughts of
God,” printed in The Sunday Magazine, is the very best
poem I ever wrote; but I have not heard one word about
its doing anybody any real good. It’s generally some-
thing that I don’t think worth copying out or getting
printed (like “I do this for thee,” and “Take my life”),
that God sees fit to use.
Do you remember my telling you my difficulty about
saving any of my literary earnings for a rainy day? Well,
after a deal of puzzle and prayer, I gave it all up to the
Lord in Switzerland (1874), and intended to give all I
ever earned straight away to Him. While in London I
had an unexpected cheque from Hutchings and Romer,
and was arranging how to give it, when down came this
fever upon me, and mere doctors and nurses made a
clean sweep of this cheque and all my available resources.
Was this an indication the other way? and should I be
acting rightly towards my relatives, if, when next I re-
ceive a cheque, I should give all away without making
Some provision for future illness? Of course some one
must pay doctors, and if I had nothing in hand it would
fall on them. So it seems robbing Peter to pay Paul
AA; 7 7A.R.S. 179
And yet He knows I would LIKE to give all into His
treasury, direct and at once.
You spoke in a former letter of rejoicing over good news
of your converts. I have been thinking over verse 4 of
St. John's Third Epistle, and it seems to me that we too
have “no greater joy.” One is very glad when souls come
to Christ, but I do think it is a “greater” joy when the
work has been tested, and one finds them growing and
working and shining for Jesus. On the other hand, it
does so pain and depress me when I see that those who
do profess to be His, often Christians of long standing,
are cool and lukewarm, and taking little or no interest in
His cause. Is it wrong that what I feel on such matters
often amounts to real suffering, and brings more tears
than I ever shed for any personal trouble? Yours ever
in Him.
(To the same.)
Movember 1876.
Isn't it odd I should be hors de combat just now P
And yet it is stranger still not to feel even the least temp-
tation to say “how excessively provoking !” as I should
have been saying three years ago; so everything only
proves how real the peace of God is. I have not a fear
or a flutter, not a care or anxiety, for time or eternity;
and I know this is not nature, for the natural thing to me
would be to fidget as to both present and prospective
health, neither being very cheering ! But the Lord is
right, as you wrote me; only I have not the vivid joy of
December 1873, and I am very much inclined to say,
“Where is the blessedness I knew P” But then I have
deeper experience in several respects, and anyhow I have
made trial of His love.
(To F. A. S.)
Mozember 17.
Just a loving line for your birthday, dear F , and
fondest wishes for every blessing; “yes all spiritual
blessings” (see Eph. i. 3).
I feel so inclined to send you, instead of a proper
“birthday text,” a word which I never noticed till lately,
18O MAE MOR/AIS OF F. R. H.
and which has struck me very much in connection with
your saying you had not thought before of “do ye even so
to them ’’ as an absolute command. It is I Chronicles
... xxviii. 8, “ſkeep, and seek for, all the commandments,?
etc. (look at it !) You see we are not merely to keep
what we know of and what lie on the surface of His law,
but to “seek for all.” And verily this is no hard lines,
for more and more I see that “in keeping of them there
is great reward” even in this life. Don't you think this
would be a good and helpful aim for the year? I mean,
God helping me, to take it as such for myself; and as it
was new to me, it may be so for you too. Don't shrink
from finding hitherto unrecognised commands; He only
“commands for our good; ” let us shrink rather from
living in unknown disobedience to any. “Blessed are
they that do His commandments;” may that blessedness
be really yours and mine.
(To J. T. W.)
I see clearly now about the “satisfaction,” i.e., that I
am so satisfied with the Lord Jesus that it is “Yea, let
any Ziba take all, forasmuch as my Lord the King has
come to His own house in peace” (“whose house are
we,” Heb. iii. 6). Ziba is entirely welcome to all my
other property, so that I may but be “with the King.”
If that isn't being satisfied with my King I don't exactly
see what is So I have said and sung the last verse of
my hypnn “Enough" again and again.
“But now Thy perfect love is perfect filling !
Lord Jesus Christ, my Lord, my God;
Thou, Thou art enough for me!?
All the same, I see I can't be satisfied till I get to
heaven, in the other sense; I shall always be wanting
“more and more” of His gifts, and His gracious words
and manifestations of Himself. I got perfectly clear
about it in writing “Full Satisfaction” (“My King,” page
30); only, I am anything but satisfied with that same
chapter, and I am afraid you are expecting a great deal
too much from my poor little book. But, it is for “my
king.” I am so happy. That's all !
Az77A2 RS, 181
(To
My feaR LITTLE K 3.
The sad, sad news has reached me, and I know a
little bit of what you are bearing now, for I lost my dear
mamma when I was about as old as you, and my dear
papa died, almost suddenly, not so very long ago. And
Jesus knows: knows exactly all you feel, has watched
every tear, and listened, oh so lovingly, to every little
cry. I think you must be in His very special care
now, and He will give you, and is giving you, even
more than all the care and love that your dear papa
could give you. Now this very minute, K dear,
He does so love you and feel for you; and I think
your dear papa knows how much Jesus loves you, better
than he ever knew before; and so he can be quite,
quite happy, even though you are left behind. He is in
Christ's safe keeping, and only think that, this very
minute, he is seeing the King in His beauty, really
seeing Jesus ! Can you not be almost glad that he is
seeing Him now? And he has really heard Jesus say to
him, “Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast
been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over
many things; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”
Think how wonderfully happy it must have made him to
hear his own dear Master's voice saying that to him
I have two little texts for you, which must come true
now, because the very time is come: “He shall gather
the lambs with His arm” (Isa. xl. II); and you perhaps
think, “Yes, I should like Jesus to keep that promise,
but when will He do it?” Look at the margin of Psalm
xxvii. Io, and you will see, “When my father and my .
mother forsake me, then the Lord will gather me.” So it
is now that He will gather you in His arms. But He has
left you your dear mamma. Will you give her my
deepest sympathy | You need not think that you must
answer this, it was only I felt so sorry for you and your
dear mamma that I could not help writing.
Yours very lovingly,
.)
182 MEMORIALS OF F. R. H.
3.
A few gleanings from letters to her friend Mary F-
embody some miscellaneous thoughts, and may fitly close
this chapter.
Psalm lx. 4: “Thou hast given a banner to them
that fear Thee.” Then He has given it to you. Don't
keep it furled." What is its device? what is its motto P
See if you come to the same conclusion I have. And
may we not take “the Truth” personally? (John xiv. 6.)
It must be the breeze of the Spirit which waves its often
drooping folds. Pray that it may be displayed faithfully
and bravely by yourself and your friend.
Jeremiah xxxi. 14: “My people shall be satisfied with
my goodness.” Do this and similar promises refer to
this life? do they not group themselves with “I shall be
satisfied when I awake with Thy likeness?” Look at
John iv. 14 in Greek: “shall never thirst;” does not
that rather imply futurity? Yet I should like to know
whether any, except such as are already in the land of
Beulah, can say that. Still, present or future, there it
stands and cannot pass away, being His word, His own
word, “My people shall be satisfied.”
“Thy will be done.” In applying this to sorrow,
trial, and disappointment, do we not forget the brighter
pendants to this tear-dropped jewel? “This is the will
of God, even your sanctification.” “Father, I will that
they, whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where 1
am.” Also Ephesians i. 5, Galatians i, 4, and many
other instances.
“When thou passest through the waters I will be with
thee.” Really and truly with you, even if the rushing of
the waters seems to deafen and blind you for the moment,
so that you cannot see or hear Him.
Hebrews xii. 11 : “afterward it yieldeth,” singular
not plural, and therefore definite and applying to each
separate trial; “it yieldeth.” So one need only wonder
what afterward, not wonder whether /
“Hitherto,” “henceforth.” The Christian's whole
course in two words.
C H A P T E R XI i.
(1877.)
Letter—The mystery of pain—The Lord's graving tool—Loyal
letters — “Won't you decide to-night?” — Manhood for
Christ's service—Splendid promises—“My silver and my
gold” — Mildmay : its intercessions, greetings, hushing
power — A crumb from the King's table — The Christian
Progress Union.
UR only available sources, for a record of many
months in 1877, are my dear sister's letters.
(To Elizabeth Clay.)
. . . Shall we not find that all parts of our lives will
prove to have been training for whatever is our truest
work even on earth, and also for the heavenly service to
which one, more and more, looks forward P But the bits
of wayside work are very sweet. Perhaps the odd bits,
when all is done, will really come to more than the seem-
Ingly greater pieces ! the chance conversations with rich
or poor, the seed sown in odd five minutes, even the
tables-d'-hôte for me, and the rides and friends’ tables
for you. It is nice to know that the King's servants are
* always really on duty, even while some can only stand
and wait. Your going to India seems a very special
“boring of the ear.” How curiously your path and mine
have diverged; your going to do great things for God,
and I able for less and less. My hope that, at last this
winter, I might be allowed one Bible class at home is un-
certain; ditto my choir practice, as I am to avoid cold
188
181 A/EA/OA’AA / S. O.A." F. A. H.
t
and fatigue. Everybody is so sorry for me except myself!
AFor the same peace which will be yours in work will be
mine in waiting; and the very fact of having a busy and
active nature, with no proclivity for dolce far niente, seems
to make the rest under God's felt restraints so much the
more really His doing.
(To the same.)
1877.
Best wishes for your first birthday in India, and I
Chronicles iv. 23, “there they dwelt with the King for
His work,” “there” is Amritsur for you. How specially it
is for His work that you are there ! I send you a lovely
little book by Miss Elliott. . . . I feel how very
precious your time will be in acquiring the language;
and, if you spent an hour writing to me, I should feel like
David did about the water of the well at Bethlehem. I
have but little physical strength ; perhaps He withholds
the active service ; and also I see His wisdom in, all
along, having held me back from any chance of con-
ferences, or hearing any speakers of any sort for several
years past (with the sole exception of the Mildmay Con-
ference in 1874). For, if I had, Ishould have learnt from
man, and should almost necessarily have echoed what I
heard from others, in what I write.
(7% .)
I think that, during certain stages of Christian life and
experience, pain is always a mystery. And so long it is
a grand trial of trust in God's perfect wisdom and love and
rightness. “His work is perfect:” Deut. xxxii. 4. (But
wait patiently till you have had, first, some years of
pastoral work, and, Second, some personal experience of
great pain; and then you will see.) To myself the whole
thing is clear as Sunshine, but tenfold clearer since the
intense pain through which He has led me of late. I
would not have foregone that teaching for anything
I. Pain, as to outsiders, is no mystery when looked at
in the light of God's holiness, and in the light of Calvary.
AA TTERS, 185
The deeper our views of and hatred of sin (as the Holy
Spirit's teaching in our hearts progresses), the more clear
will all that is connected with sin become; and as,(had
there been no sin there would have been no pain,\it is all,
and more than all, deserved. I can say for myself that
I feel I have deserved the very suffering of hell for my
transgression of the first great commandment of the law
(“thou shall love the Lord thy God,” etc.), and for my
sin of unbelief.
It is, further, a real proof of God’s love. He cannot
(being Love) enjoy the sight of suffering, IT MUST be as
much worse to Him than to you, as He is infinitely greater
and more loving than you ! And yet He inflicts or per-
mits it, that He may rouse, and warn, and check, and
save. What thousands have blessed Him for the pain
that came like a rough hand catching them as they fell
over a precipice, hurting and pinching their very flesh,
but saving their lives V. In how many ways a skilful
doctor gives pain, that he may prevent much greater and
worse suffering ! At the same time, I am guite sure that
with very, very rare exceptions bodily pain, though far
more trying to witness, is not anything to compare with
mental pain, and it leaves no sting or scar, as almost
every other form of real trial must do. (I am perhaps in
a specially good position to judge of this point, because
all my doctors agree in saying that, from my unusually
finely strung nerves, I am and always shall be peculiarly
sensitive to physical pain, and feel it far more keenly
than ordinary people.)
II. Pain, as to God's own children, is truly and really,
only blessing in disguise. WIt is but His chiselling, one
of His graving tools, producing the likeness to Jesus for
which we long./ I never yet came across a suffering (real)
Christian who could not thank Him for pain Is not
this a strong and comforting fact! I do not say that they
always do so during the very moments of keenest pain,
though much more often than not I think they are able
to do this; but, certainly, they do deliberately praise Him
for it afterwards. I think one must pass through it for
I Šč Aff EMORIA LS OF F. A. A.
oneselſ before one can fully realize the actual blessedness
of suffering; meanwhile, you may well take the testimony
of those who have. Its conscious effects are to give one
deeper feeling of one's entire weakness and helplessness
(a lesson which we are all slow to learn in health), and
of the real nothingness of earthly aims and comforts, and
the fleetingness and unsatisfactoriness of everything
except Christ. //Then, it drives one to Him each moment,
one cannot bear it even one minute alone, one must lean
and cling (and anything is blessed which does this!). And
then, one finds that He is tender and gracious, that His
promises are precious, that His presence Is a REALITY
even if unrealized/ſ (a true paradox 1) Then, one has op
portunities which one could not otherwise have of learn-
ing trust, and patience, and meekness; it is a time of
growing up into Him in these things/, /Then, one realizes
more what it must have been to Jesus to endure real,
& actual, bodily pain for us, / I never saw such tremendous
force in I Peter ii. 24 (“in His own body”) as when
suffering great pain myself; it seemed a new page of His
love unfolded to me. I could write sheets more on the
blessed teachings of pain, but if I did I should perhaps
bring it on 1 So far, the whole question of pain is rather
one of sight than of faith to me now ; it has become so
clear to me, as a part of God’s great plan which could not
be done without. But I find yet scope for faith beyond.
I believe there is a mysterious connection between suf.
fering here and actual capabilities of enjoyment hereafter,
and that suffering here is training (I cannot tell how) for
that glorious service above, to which I delight to look
forward. But now look for yourself at what God's word
says about it, and dwell on that instead of on your own
thoughts about it, for His thoughts are not as your
thoughts; see Isaiah lv. 8, 9. Look at 2 Corinthians iv.
17, 18; and then see how much more you can find in
His word which bears on the subject. . . . .
Trust Jesus in and for everything. (When a trial is past,
one does so bitterly regret not having trusted Him en-
tirely in it; and one sees that we might as well have had
6 all the joy and rest of perfect trust all along)
> *
N!
N/
A TTEA’S, 187
(To .)
. . . I know that nothing short of the Holy Spirit's
power can enable any one to accept God's way of salvation
as a little child. . . . I will tell you the two passages
which have been the greatest help to me, two great anchors
which have stood many a strain of personal conflict and
doubt: John v. 24 and I John v. Io, I I. It does not
matter what we suppose God might propose or declare;
it all hangs upon what has God said about it? And can
words be plainer than these two passages P “He that
believeth hath everlasting life.” Only think deliberately
out that those words must mean everlasting life, for it
would be a mockery and a lie to call it so if it might last
only a day or a year. If the life which Jesus imparts (His
own life by His Spirit) can come to an end to-morrow,
it is not, cannot be, and never was, everlasting life at all /
Our natural life is even as a vapour, but this would be
a poorer thing still, if it might be lost even sooner. .
“Everlasting” either means that which shall really last
for ever, or it is a meaningless delusion and not worth
the paper it is printed on. “Bath.” it is never said
shall have, but always the actual present possession by
every one who believes, not always consciously but
certainly. If you believe in Jesus as your only and all
sufficient Saviour, either you have at this moment ever-
lasting life, a life which shall and can never perish ; or
God is a liar. Don't you see the inevitable force of
“everlasting 2" It must be everything or nothing. How
can it be everlasting life, if it can be quenched in eternal
death P. The two passages you mention present no diffi-
culty at all. Philippians ii. 12, 13 seems to me clearly to
imply that those to whom St. Paul wrote had got salvation
as an actual possession, “your own ;” and, having got
it, they are now to “work it out,” i.e., to carry out all
the details and consequences of it, act up to it. Give a
man a great gold mine; it is his, he has not got to work
* for it (it is all there, his very own), but only to work it
N out, draw upon it, and enjoy it. I think the figure holds
188 MA2AſORYAt LS OF F. R. F.
f Y
NA
H-92.
&
good, for enjoyment seems to hold an almost invariable
proportion to work for Christ. I never knew any idle
Christian really a rejoicing one (I do not of course
speak of invalids); and, conversely, if you see a man or
woman, whatever their position, doing all they can for
the cause of Christ, giving up time to work for Him, and
trying hard to win others, either rich or poor, for Him,
you may be almost certain that they are happy in Christ.
(Mark, I do not say those who merely ride religious or
° benevolent hobbies, or who work for externals of religion,
Kº
|
these are often as miserable as any ; but those who are
working for Christ.) Further, just look at the “for”
in verse 13, and take the two verses together and you will
see that it is all of God and not of us. As to I Corinthians
ix. 27, why did you not see that the Greek &öóxiſtos is
literally and clearly “not approved,” being simply the
negative of 36xpos. You cannot read the Greek word
otherwise; and how it came to be translated “cast-
away” I can't imagine. I can wish you no greater
blessing than that salvation may be no longer a “theory”
but a glorious reality to you, constraining you henceforth
to live unto Him entirely and joyfully. (If you once get
hold of this, everything will seem different); the false
lights of the world will no longer throw their flickering,
deceiving lights around you, but you will view and
estimate all in the true light, the glorious light which
makes the earthly delusions altogether unattractive,
and the grand eternal realities appear what they are,
just realities. But, whatever you do, don't delay; go
fully and most earnestly into the question at once; a
magnificent treasure is within your reach, don't drift
away from it. If any other passage, or set of passages,
present any difficulty to your mind, I wish you would
* let me know. Just one thing: this matter is not merely the
fº.
\,
\
intellectual acceptance of a theory, but also the accept-
ance, by the heart, of God's loving and free offer and plan,
N. It is a personal transaction between Christ and the soul,
to be carried out alone with Him.
A.A. 7"TEK’S. 189
(To a young friend.)
You will not mind my writing to you; you needn't
feel obliged to answer. I hear you go back to school
on Thursday; are you to go back doubtful, uneasy,
fearful, dissatisfied, alone ; or, is it to be going back with
Jesus safe in Him, happy in Him? When the Holy
Spirit stirs up a heart to feel uneasy, it is very solemn, 4
because it is His doing; Satan will do his best to say
“peace, peace, when there is no peace.” It is very
solemn, because it results either in grieving that loving
Spirit by stifling His secret call, or in passing from death 3
unto life: the # I know of no other alter-
native. Which shall it be? Don't linger just outside the
gate of the city of refuge; just outside is danger, perhaps
destruction; you are not safe for one instant till you are
inside. And oh, have you ever thought that it is not
merely negative, not merely not safe, but that unless your r-
sins now are on Jesus they are now on you, and God's £, Ǻ
wrath is upon them and so upon you ? It is a tremen.
dous question, “where are your sins P” I do not stay
to prove that they are somewhere, you have learnt that ;
but now where are they? On you, or on Jesus? Oh,
that He may now send His own faithful word about it
with power to your soul, “the Lord hath laid on Aſimºv
the iniquity of us all !). Accept that, believe His word,
venture your soul upon it, and “he that believeth hath
everlasting life.” I won't write more to-day; all hinges
on this question, Č where are your sins?” If on you, you
are not safe one instant, there is but a step between you
and hell, “the wrath of God abideth on him ;” it is
awfully true, don't dare to sleep another night with Con-
demnation upon you. But if on Jesus (and He only asks
you to believe that He has borne them, in His own
body, on the tree, and that Jehovah hath laid them on
Aſim), then you are free, gloriously free They can't be
on both / If on Jesus, you are saved and have ever-
lasting life, and you will prove it by “henceforth” being
His entirely and living to Him. I desire and pray that

Igo MEM f().RA LS OF F. R. H.
sºr
the great question of your life, of your whole eternity,
may be decided before you go back. It will be easier
now than it ever can be again, if He ever gives you
another call.
(To the same.)
. . . Let me say just this;(when one is really and
utterly “all for Jesus,” then and not till then we find
Jesus is “all for us, and all in all to us.” Now I want you
to be “all for Jesus.” I can’t describe the happiness
He puts into any heart that will only give itself up
altogether to Him, not wishing to keep one single bit
back. And I want you to have this, and to have it mozy,
not to wait till illness or great trouble come, and you feel
driven at last to Him. No 1 that is simply “too bad l’’
Jesus says, “Come now /* not, “come when everything
else has turned bitter.” And if you come now, and sur-
render to Him now, you will have the peace now and
the gladness now ; and I can tell you it is worth having,
because I have it, and so I know it is. (It is a grand
thing to start out early, and be on the Lord's side all
along. " Oh, what an amount of sorrow it will save you if
He gives you grace to do it ! But come now, for Jesus
of Nazareth is passing by, and many are getting His
blessing. Don't wait, either to get better or to feel
zºlorse /
(To the same.)
I know you must have thought me very hard upon
you on Friday morning: but what could I do P I see
you, a young, fresh life, redeemed by the precious blood
of Christ, believing and owning what He has done for
you, with grand possibilities of power in His cause, and
I think endowed with special gifts of influence and
attraction, one who might be, and do so much, for Jesus;
and, yet, Jesus does not come first ! And you know it
might be otherwise and ought to be otherwise. You are
“entangled” when you might be “free” in His “glorious
* liberty;” you are unsatisfied, yes, and dissatisfied, and
\,~
A.E TTERS. 191
you might be “abundantly satisfied.” He has dealt
bountifully with you, and now what shall you render to
Him? Has not the practical answer been : “Just as
much as I can conveniently spare, after I have rendered
all that Society asks, and that self or personal enjoyment
claims just as much as I can spare Him with risk of
the least awkwardness, or remark, or self denial P Of
course, one must give up the bulk of one's time, and
talents, and influence, and thoughts, and desires, and
efforts, to other things; but He shall have just the chips
and shavings, the odds and ends, of whatever I don't
particularly want for myself or for anybody else !” Does
it not, practically, amount to this P And shall it continue
to do so? Oh, be “true-hearted, whole-hearted.” Be
really His faithful soldier and servant. Throw over-
board for ever the divided allegiance, which is valueless.
. (Be “only for Jesus,” and you will start out on a new
life of blessedness, beyond anything you can imagine;
and you will never, never, NEVER have a regret that
you listened to, and obeyed, His own “Abllow Me,”
even if it involves (as it will) taking up a cross, for
there is no true following exempt from it, only the very
cross will be gilded with glory.) Do not be surprised
if I never Say another word again about it. I feel that
I have said my say to you, and that I can say no more.
The Master will send me to others, but I think not again
to you. I can now only leave you, with one more cry
for blessing, at His feet. Oh that He would say to you,
“Arise and shine !”
(Zo .)
To-morrow your manhood begins. Whose shall it be?
How much of it shall be for Him? Shall it be, still,
“some for self, and some for Thee?” What if He had
not made a whole offering? what if He had not given
His whole self for you? Answer the question, face it to.
night, “How much owest thou unto my Lord?') Think
of that, and you will be glad that there is anything to give
up for Him. And, as for “giving up,” there is not a
I92 2}{AZMOA’AA LS OF F. R. H.
->
true servant of Christ who does not know that the
Master's words come true, ‘Whe shall receive an hundred-
fold now in this time.” I know it for myself. Can't you
take your Lord's own word for it, and trustfully say,
“Wea, let Him take al/?” CAN you deliberately say,
“Well, Jesus shall have part; I’ll see what I can spare
for Him AFTER my boating friends, and all the things
that “a man must do, you know,” have had their due
share.” That is what it comes to. But you cannot serve
two, much less several, masters. For, if you are serving
self, and pleasure, and the world, even a little, you are
serving Christ's enemy, and not serving Him really at all,
because He accepts no divided service. It is very
Solemn; but won't you, on this solemn, great, dividing
time of your life, look steadily at the reality of the case,
and decide, once for all, whose your real service shall be
Oh, if it might but be that the great, joyful transaction
might be done this very night, before the clock strikes
twelve, so that not even one hour of your manhood
should be “for another,” but only and all for Jesus !
Oh, don't be afraid of taking the plunge; give yourself
over into His hands, and then it will be His part to keeſ
you, and you may trust Him for the keeping; you will
not find Him fail you. Wield yourself unto God (Rom.
vi. I3) altogether, body, soul, and spirit, all your powers
and all your members. ; And then see if He won't use
you ! He always does | Dear , I wish I had an
angel's tongue to persuade you to believe what blessed-
ness you are on the edge of, if you would only give your-
self “in FULL and glad surrender” to Jesus, and be
“true-hearted, whole-hearted.” But I want you for my
Master's sake, far more than for your own I can't bear
those who might be even officers, let alone recruits, in His
army to be contented to stay at home as it were, and
only fight their own little private battles for their own
ends, and the cause of the Redeemer left to take its
chance Oh, if we might be able to say to-morrow the
verses I have stuck on this letter | I am so happy
whenever there is “another voice to tell it out;” won't
A 77A2/*S. 193
you be “another?” I must not stay up writing, but
I don't think I shall soon sleep. God helping me, I will \,
not let Him go except He bless you.
Once more, How much for Jesus?
(To .)
I am so glad and thankful you have been to the
Mildmay Conference. People don't go, because they
don't know, till they have been, what it really is. Your
description is one of the best I ever heard. “To him
that hath shall be given” is always coming true; it is \ſ
the folks who already have grace enough, who make the
effort to put themselves in the way of having more. º
I could not, do what I would, manage to get up any
very strong emotion at hearing of your being laid up
again It did seem so very like as if the Lord were
determined you should not drift away, at once, into a # 2, .
different atmosphere, where all the “other things entering
in” should choke the word you have heard. And,
suppose you have to stay and get mixed up with the e
tent work, it will be worth more to you as a sworn &
soldier of Jesus Christ than all the honours Cambridge
has to bestow.
. . . I am most anxious that you should be a true
Christian friend to Don't, oh don't help to
introduce him to any men, or anything, which would be º
hindrance and not help either in seeking or following sº
Jesus. Don’t, merely because it might be pleasant to
him, have the responsibility of bringing him into any
path which you have found does not lead nearer to Jesus. V
And do take him to hear Mr. Aitken when he comes to
Forgive me, but souls are souls, and it does not
do to play with them, and seniors have serious responsi-
bilities. º
I think you would find it very useful to take in The
Clergyman's Magazine for yourself now, without waiting
till you are ordained. I sent you a prospectus of it, c
There were capital articles all last year.
N
194 AZAZMO R/4 LS OF A. R. H.
(To Miss Shekleton.)
LEAMINGTON.
My experience is, that it is nearly always just
in proportion to my sense of personal insufficiency in
writing anything, that God sends His blessing and power
with it; so I don’t wonder that your papers are so sweet
and helpfull & I think He must give us that total depend-
ence on Him for every word, which can only come by
feeling one's own helplessness and incapacity, before He
can very much use us. And so I think this very sense of
not having gifts is the best and most useful gift of them
all. It is so much sweeter to have to look up to Him
for every word one writes. I often smile when people
call me “gifted,” and think how little they know the real
state of the case, which is that I not only feel that I
can’t, but really can't, write a single verse unless I go to
Him for it and get it from Him.
/But, in this sweet access and supply, you and I have
a “better thing” than the grandest natural gifts; and as
for being slow or quick in production, it may be some
tiny sentence written in five seconds, and never thought
of before, which may do the widest and truest work for
Jesus. ! * Yours, in our dear Master.
(7% .)
& I suppose it was the “silver and gold” line
that was objected to ; and I do think that couplet,
“Take my silver and my gold, Not a mite would I with-
hold,” is peculiarly liable to be objected to by those
who do not really understand the spirit of it, don't
you? So I am not a bit surprised 1 Yes, “not a
mite would I withhold;” but that does not mean that,
because we have ten shillings in our purse, we are
pledged to put it all into the next collecting plate, else
we should have none for the next call! But it does mean
that every shilling is to be, and I think I may say is,
held at my Lord's disposal, and is distinctly not my own;
but, as He has entrusted to me a body for my special
VISITS AW 1877. 195
charge, I am bound to clothe that body with His silver
and gold, so that it shall neither suffer from cold, nor
bring discredit upon His cause ! I still forget some-
times, but as a rule I never spend a sixpence without
the distinct feeling that it is His, and must be spent for
Him only, even if indirectly.
With the same common sense, she explains her reason
for dressing very nicely.
(The outer should be the expression of the inner, not
an ugly mask or disguise. If the King's daughter is to
be “all glorious within,” she must not be outwardly a
fright ! I must dress both as a lady and a Christian.
The question of cost I see very strongly, and do not con-
sider myself at liberty to spend on dress that which might
be spared for God’s work; but it costs no more to have
a thing well and prettily made, and I should only feel
justified in getting a costly dress if it would last pro-
portionately longer. When working among strangers, if
I dressed below par, it would attract attention and might
excite opposition; by dressing unremarkably, and yet
with a generally pleasing effect, no attention is dis- &
tracted. Also, what is suitable in one house is not so in
another, and it would be almost an insult to appear at
dinner among some of my relatives and friends in what
I could wear without apology at home; it would be an
actual breach of the rule “Be courteous;” also, I should
not think it right to appear among wedding guests in a
dress which would be perfectly suitable for wearing to
the Infirmary. But I shall always ask for guidance in
all things li
The year 1877 was passed uneventfully at her home,
or in visits to her brother or sisters, to Ashley Moor, and
to London. The distressing illness of our dear mother
was a source of deep anxiety; Frances writes to her :
More pain, dearest mother ? May it be more sup-
port, more grace, more tenderness, from the God of all
WN
196 MEMORYA LS OF F. R. H.
comfort, more and more 1 May we not expect the
“mores” always to be in tender proportion to each
other ? Your loving child,
A few characteristic extracts from some of her letters
at this time may here be given.
Instead of printing E. L. Goreh's verses to me (“Sweet
Singer”), which can do no good at all, persuade her to
print and sell her splendid little appeal, “Listen,
Christian sisters;” there would be some use in that, and
I would much rather not those to myself.
Do get instantly “Our Coffee Room,” by Miss Cotton.
It is so racily graphic and natural, so telling, and so hard
to put down, that you had better not begin it late at
night !
I have been immensely struck with the passages in
which our Master, our Example, uses the word “must,”
and the great contrast with our use of it. Only compare
when any one says “but I must do so and so,” with
Christ's “I must’s.” It is a really helpful bit of Bible
search, for we must follow Him in this or we are “not
worthy of Him.”
Do not hesitate to smite me. I dread nothing so
much as smooth things. I would rather have “faithful
wounds.” I do not see how I can like doing . º
and yet I am in honour bound to carry it through. I
was absolutely content and happy in it as being His
doing, but subsequent delays and mistakes seemed alto-
gether human and not His doing at all.
God has been leading me for some time by a way
which I knew not, both outwardly and inwardly. I
want closer contact with Jesus, more constant com.
munion, more patience, more everything; sometimes I
seem to have nothing, only that I know Jesus will not fail,
will not loose me. He is very wisely giving me a much
longer learning time, before letting me do any more
teaching. . . .
I do indeed need grace and tact and patience and
AzTTERS, 197
* comfort very much just now. It's just a case of “No.
body knows but Jesus;” and I feel it is good for me. I
am thrown the more on His own strength and sympathy,
in what is to me “under the surface” trial; but I know
the Lord is right. . . .
I am to be godmother to dear little Henry; will it not
be a peculiarly solemn trust Do pray that he may be
Christ's faithful soldier and servant, not only unto the
end, but from the beginning / I do so want him to be a
ãoy-witness for Christ. VI long, more and more, for
people to be not just “saved so as by fire,” but to be
right-down thorough-going witnesses for Christ."
(To D. S.)
What shall I do? Your letter would take two hours
to answer, and I have not ten minutes; fifteen to twenty
letters to write every morning, proofs to correct, editors
waiting for articles, poems and music I cannot touch
American publishers clamouring for poems or any manu-
scripts, four Bible readings or classes weekly, many
anxious ones waiting for help, a mission week coming,
and other work after that, And my doctor says my
physique is too weak to balance the nerves and brain,
and that I ought not to touch a pen. If you could see
the pressure on me, you would not think me wet-blanket-
ing if I do not answer all your queries. “Mission Week!”
if that sort of thing won't do in , it is the very reason
why it is wanted; no agency seems to me more blessed
than that.
“Bride of Christ?” Study (I don't mean read
through) the Canticles, and look at the practical sweet-V
ness, comfort, and beauty of the type; also look at
Ezekiel xvi. and Hosea ii. Your own Bible will be your
best answerer.
Work out this glorious subject: I Samuel xii. 24,
“Consider,” Psalm cºxvi. 3 “hath done,” Joel ii. 21
“will do;” and then (practical) Luke viii. 39, “show,”
not merely “tell,” what great things He has done. What
198 AMEMORAAF.S OF F. R. F.
“great things” does your Bible tell He hath done and
will do? You will find it inexhaustible !
Yours in affectionate haste.
(To —.)
*I)on't you see He has broken the yoke (Isa. x. 27),
only you keep rubbing the place where it pressed, and
are feeling stiff/? When splints are taken off a broken leg,
you feel as if they were still on, “Believe, and ye shall
be free indeed.” Will you set yourself to search out what
He says about it? Put all the texts down, and be pre-
pared to write under them either, “I believe what God
says,” or “I believe what I feel, and not what He says.”
Try it ! Now I must dash off to another topic, because
I must hand to you what flashed out splendidly to me
last night: “Beloved of God, called to be saints I"
That for you and me. Only think! It seems to include
everything. Will you let that be your pillow to-morrow
night?
(To Miss Williams.)
Thanks for your sweet benediction. If you remember
me in prayer, will you ask that I may be kept always
and only at Jesus’ feet, never anywhere else. It is the
only place safe from vain glory. Thank you for your
valuable gift of the “History of Wales.” I do so like
your book, “Literary Women.” The sad sketch of
L. E. L.'s life and character struck me very much. What
a contrast to Hannah More l
v It seems as if more waiting than working were to be
my lot; but it is such rest to be quite satisfied with His
choice for me. V
(To Mrs. R–.)
68 MILDMAY PARK, October 1877,
Would Lizzie like to send her baby-house with its
twenty dolls to the Mildmay Orphanage P I see it would
be most gratefully received as a gift to the Mildmay
work. Mrs. Pennefather invited me here. I was going
away on Saturday, but caught cold at the quarterly meet-
MZZZOMA Y PARK, I99
ing of the Association of Female Workers. I sat in a
draught. I knew I was in for a proper cold, so implored
them to let me go across to their Home for Invalids
(which I had taken a great fancy to), and lie there a few
days. But they would not let me get into a cold cab as a
specimen of Mildmay nursing, so thereupon I resigned
myself to an extra week here. And, verily they do know
how to nurse, and, what's more (!), how to keep you
quiet. Also they do know how to pray ! I have learnt a
little, I hope, on that subject this last week. What I
hear and see here is quite a new light on intercessory
prayer. I thought I knew something of its power and
reality, but I see I did not know much.
Mrs. Pennefather took me (before my cold) to
Clapton House. I only wish every girl I care for
was there; such a beautiful Christian school. I got 9
any amount of bright looks (as it seems they knew
my books), and I wanted exceedingly to go among them.
Hearing the Principal say she would be prevented taking
their Bible. class, I ventured the proposal to take it.
Afterwards, I had about a dozen all to myself in the
drawing-room, for a talk with any that wanted special
help. They were told to get chairs. “Oh,” I said,
“don’t sit all in a row a long way off; come up close and
cosy; we can talk ever so much better then, can’t we ?”
You should have seen how charmed they were, and
clustered niece-fashion all round me. We did have such a
a sweet hour; it was rather after the “question-drawer” ,
manner; but all their little questions or difficulties
seemed summed up by one of them, “We do so want to Ny
come closer to Jesus.”
I was very sorry not to hear one of Mrs. Pennefather's
beautiful addresses, but she could not move her head
from the pillow. Mrs. Charlesworth took the subject. I
was so cosily out of the way in the back seat, revelling
in being quite incog, when it was announced “Miss
F. R. H. is here, and we hope she will say a few words.”
I sat quiet. “She is here,” said Miss S , so that
I was obliged to startle my neighbours by rising, but I
2CO MEMORAZS OF R. R. H.
simply said I came there to learn, not to teach. Then
Annie Macpherson made a bright little speech on en-
couragements to prayer. Then followed such greetings
from her and from Misses De Broen and Blundell, Mrs.
Hudson Taylor, just come from China, and Miss Maclean,
who has been working twelve years all alone, and both
the latter told me how the Lord had sent them the
same blessing He had to us. Mrs. Bayly, of “Ragged
Homes,” Miss Bayly, just back from Australia, and many
more spoke to me. It is such a privilege to be one of
such an Association. And you don’t see a dismal face
among them And they are so affectionate, the Sun is
so bright that there's no ice left to be broken. But oh,
Mrs. R—, what shall Z render to the Lord for His
immense mercies to me? for there was not one that
spoke to me but wanted to tell me of some blessing
through my books or leaflets.
Everything is so well ordered at Mildmay, and Mrs. P.
is so very calm and calming; she comes and gives me a
text at night with a sort of hushing power,
(To S. B. P.)
I want to hand over to you my own last crumb from
the King's table, only it is more than a crumb. “Be-
loved of God, called to be saints.” All that for you and
me! “Greatly beloved,” for of course God cannot love
just a little ! And what a calling : “high,” “holy,”
heavenly Does not this seem a little lovely epitome of
our position?
The following lines were written impromptu in S. B.
P.'s album :
W*ENOCH WALKED WITH GOD.”
(Gen. v. 22.)
So may'st thou walk! from hour to hour
Of every brightening year;
Keeping so very near
To Him, whose power is love, whose love is power.
A 7'7"E.R.S. 20|
..So may'st thou walk 1 in His clear light,
Leaning on Him alone,
__. Thy life His very own, •
Until He takes thee up to walk with Him in white.
FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL.
March 31st, 1877.
Though no reference has been made to the “Christian
Progress Scripture Reading Union,” my dear sister was a
most active member, and the means of enrolling hundreds
of others. The number on her card of membership is
1667. She often wrote for the magazine, and at one time
(to relieve her friend, Mr. Boys) undertook his work as
editor for three months. One sentence from a letter, and
her explanatory paper on the object of the Union, will
suffice to show her practical interest.
(7% S. G. P.)
Do you know the “Christian Progress Union?” I
find it is the most valuable adjunct to work, i.e., work
with souls, that I ever had. It puts people on the rails
of regular reading, and a double line is worth more than
twice as much as a single one. Hence I value its
arrangement for two chapters to be read daily. I enjoy
it immensely for myself, but value it for others. Do
join -
C H A P T E R XIII.
(1878.)
Sympathy with sorrowful suffering – “Just as Thou wilt” — The
mother's last smile — Called to rest — The home nest stirred
up — Clear guidance – “Another little step” – Last days
in Leamington — Nieces and nephews — Devonshire visits
— The Welsh nest — “My study” — The harp-piano — More
work — The sweep of Jehovah's pencil — Bible readings —
“Take my love” — Songs in a weary Christmas night.
“T F one member suffer, all the members suffer with
it.” During the winter and spring of 1877–8 our
dear second mother was passing through intense suffering,
Though most patiently borne, it was very sorrowful to
witness. The sympathy of many friends in Leamington,
and the devotion of our dear old friend, Miss Nott, gave
untold comfort both to the sufferer and to Frances. But
with marvellous energy our mother still carried on her
Zenana meetings and those of the A. F. W. Society, until
at last the diligent worker, the bright and loving friend,
the counsellor of many, was called away. Some lines,
by our dear father, exactly describe the patience and the
desire of his beloved wife:
Just as Thou wilt! Be all to me,
E’en when Thy hand smites heavily
On brightest day or darkest night,
Whate'er is Thine is right.
Just as Thou wilt! Should anguish fierce
With scorpion stings my body pierce,
I'll praise Thee if on me Thou'lt shine,
And whisper “I am thine !”
A LAST SMZZAZ. 203
On her last day, and after long unconsciousness, she
suddenly recognised Frances, who was kneeling by her.
Her smile was startlingly sweet; it was the last.
On Sunday, May 26th, 1878, the end came ; for
weariness, rest; for suffering, glory; for the loneliness
of widowhood, the reunion for ever. In Astley Church-
yard she
“Rests where her loved ones rest,
And joins the throng
Of them who see the Lamb
And sing that endless song.”
(W. H. H.)
(To Hon. F. Dillon.)
If ever a cup of cold water came at the right
moment, it was your overwhelmingly kind letter. It
came on the seventh day of poor suffering mother's
dying. The painful tension to me has been excessive ;
your note was a singular relief, if only for a few minutes,
in those days of grief. To witness that strangely dis-
tressing illness has been by “terrible things” answering
my eager prayer for more teaching and closer drawing
at any cost. So now I expect the “afterwards,” which,
as yet, I certainly don't feel. But it is something to set
to one's own personal seal that God is true to a whole
set of promises, with which one could have nothing to
do except in very real trial of some sort, and one may as
well let Him choose what sort.
Many arrangements and perplexities now devolved
upon us, in the breaking up of our Leamington home.
Dear Frances’ unfailing trust, and her assurance that
God would guide our steps aright, was to me most
calming and sustaining. She was just a daily illustration
of “Without Carefulness.” We both needed quiet; and
as we remembered our pleasant rambles many years ago
on the cliffs beyond the Mumbles, we went there, and our
ty
204 MEMORYAZS OF F. R. F.
brother joined us. Frances at once wished us to secure
united lodgings for our winter home, and in this I entirely
agreed. Returning from Wales I went with my dear
sister to Herefordshire, staying with some worthy people
at the “Highlands” farm, near Titley. The good man
was quite deaf, and my sister's dexterity, in talking on
her fingers to him and rapidly transferring on them the
sermons at church, was another of her ceaseless ministries.
From the high ground of the rabbit warren the view is
panoramic. And there stands the yew tree, beneath which
my sister had written her poem “Zenith.” It was there
she sketched the earthly zeniths, and compared them
with the broad sunlight of the true zenith, the true
Shining—
“. . . That should rise and rise,
From glory unto glory, through God’s skies,
* In strengthening brightness and increasing power;
A rising with no setting, for its height
Could only culminate in God's eternal light.”
Those quiet lodgings were restful to us both, and we
received such kind attentions from Mr. and Mrs. Main-
waring as ensured our comfort, until we returned to
Leamington to break up our home. The following
letters belong to that period:
LEAMINGTON, August 1878.
The Lord has shown me another little step, and of
course I have taken it with extreme delight. “Take my
silver and my gold” now means shipping off all my
ornaments (including a jewel cabinet which is really fit
for a countess) to the Church Missionary House, where
they will be accepted and disposed of for me. I retain
only a brooch or two for daily wear, which are memorials
of my dear parents; also a locket with the only portrait
I have of my niece in heaven, my Evelyn; and her “two
rings,” mentioned in “Under the Surface.” But these I
A.J.; 7'7"E.R. - . 205
redeem, so that the whole value goes to the Church
Missionary Society. I had no idea I had such a
jeweller's shop, nearly fifty articles are being packed off.
I don't think I need tell you I never packed a box with
such pleasure.
(To Hon. F. Dillon.)
. . . Don't I recollect you, and the wonderful
sermon we had just heard on Revelation iii. 12 P I
always read your articles first in Woman's Work, for oh,
I do like writing which is both and #, and yours is
exceedingly both. I don't think there has been a day
these three weeks that your name has not been in my
mind, so that I was quite startled to see your name at
the end of the letter 1 “Reason why:” the editor of
Christian Progress has broken down ill; and, though
some of my friends thought it almost sinful of me, I
could not refuse his request that I would relieve him for
three months as editor. Never, except as an act of
sheer mercy and pity, will I be an editor. Letter after
letter to various “lights,” whom I entreated to illumi-
nate their 14,000 readers on various topics, brought
hardly anything but regretful refusals. Everybody is too
busy. (I wish people would believe I was ; if they did
I should get a little more breathing time to do my own
work.) May I ask you to contribute a paper on a Bible
subject, as Miss Whately and I are both writing a series
on practical points, she on the negatives, I on the posi-
tives, of Christian life. Otherwise some of your “Dead
Flies” or “Polished Corners” series would have done
splendidly. I am so glad you touch the seniors in your
paper this month; you are generally hardest on the
juniors. I longed for a second paper on unpunctuality,
for the seniors. My experiences have been chiefly more of
the hindrance their unpunctuality is for if the mistress
is late at meals, and does not see the value of punctuality
in general, everybody has to suffer far more than for any
juvenile delinquent. I can't let your letter pass without
loving thanks (and I have thanked Him), and just a
2O6 MEMORAAAZS OF F. R. F.
word of wonder that you should find help from my words,
There are few things one feels so unworthy of as even
to bear His messages, let alone see His seal set upon
them. I can understand others being used, but not
my being used. I can only say I am not worthy of the
least of His mercies. What you said about His “tell-
ing,” and the love revealed in it, was so real and sweet to
hear. Is it not one of the many secrets of the Lord, this
“telling P” . . . Last, but not least, my sister and
I are both so struck with your thought on “The Lord
shall be thy rereward.” Some special circumstances
make it just the right word for me. Then of course this
sent me to the whole chapter, and that has been food
and strength. Yesterday was my last Sunday evening
in [what had been] my father's home. I don't suppose I
shall ever, exactly, have a home again. But I am very
happy in the “stirring up” of the nest; every new expe-
rience of the “changes and chances” takes one into a
new province of the land of promise. And I have my
sister, and we are going to live together for the winter
in South Wales. She is almost everything to me. I
wish I could entirely “tell it out” how good God is to
me! ; Don't you find there are some things one can say
better than write I can't write at all, as I would, how
good He is, the ink would boil in my pen Oh for a
seraph's tongue to tell ! Well, we shall be able some
day. Till then, and then, I am and shall be
Yours lovingly.
On our last Sunday evening in Leamington we went
to Trinity Church ; and the concluding hymn was my
sister's “Thou art coming, O my Saviour.” The fare-
well kindness of many clergy and friends is well remem-
bered. Characteristically, on our last home evening,
Frances sent for a number of night-school boys, giving
them baskets of books and magazines, maps for their
library, a magic lantern, etc. And I don't think they
have forgotten how she gathered them round her piano,
THE WEZSA RE 7 RAEA 7. - 207
singing with them “Tell it out;” and then followed her
bright farewell words.
Frances spent a great part of the month of August with
our dear brother Henry's widow and family, in Somerset-
shire. They had bright loving intercourse; deep search-
ings together with their Bibles; and music, in which all
could take a skilful part, solos and choruses resounding
the praises of Him they loved, and whom one of them
WaS SO SOOn to See,
May I say that the love of every one of her numerous
nieces and nephews was ever accounted by their aunt as
one of God's good gifts, casting refreshing fragrance on
her path. What she was to them, no words of mine can
tell !
Then came a journey into Devonshire; she writes from
Looseleigh, near Plymouth : “I am indeed in clover
with these kind friends, and it is very pleasant meeting so
many who prayed for me in my illness, though quite a
stranger.” My sister addressed a large gathering of
ladies in Plymouth, in connection with the Y. W. C. A.
Some time after this she wrote out her notes on the
subject of her address, “All Things.” +
One happy Sunday was spent with other new friends, in
a very Eden of trees, and flowers, and birds, and holy
fellowship. A brief visit was also paid to her friends at
Newport, of which she said it was “like breathing the air
of the land of Beulah.”
Early in October my sister joined me in our Welsh
retreat. How I remember her first words to me : “I
wanted so to get you, Marie dear !” She was so very
tired, that even the sea air and perfect rest failed to
refresh her for some time. Afterwards, she thoroughly
*—
* “All Things,” price Id. Nisbet & Co.
&
2O8 AAEAMOR/.4 LS OF F. R. F.
enjoyed the walks and scrambles on the cliffs; at low tide
springing lightly over boulders to beds of seaweeds, and
rocky pools bright with sea anemones, and then calling
to me to watch the white-crested waves, “the wind dash-
ing them back like confirmation veils.” Or, watching
the vessels with all sails up entering the harbour, she
would speak of the “abundant entrance into the ever-
lasting kingdom.” Delighting in all knowledge, she
studied the “Nautical Almanac,” and at the top of the
Mumbles lighthouse learnt all that the keeper could tell
her. Her tastes were so simple, delighting in wild
flowers, and in animals, from the great St. Bernard dogs
to her pet kittens. -
We made her study cosy with home comforts, and she
called it her “workshop.” She arranged her pictures:
by the door was her motto “For Jesus' sake only,” and
her Temperance pledge card; besides, were her father's
portrait, and below it “Sunset on the Lake of Geneva,”
“The Martyrs in Prison,” “Astley Church and Rectory,”
also “The Snow Peaks of the Dent du Midi,” and the
“Alpine Geum ” (choice gifts from her friend Helga v.
Cramm), with many home portraits and busts.
Her small but choice library showed the variety of her
taste, classical, foreign, poetical, with many works on
science, geology, etc.; Humboldt's and Professor Ritchie's
works (his last gift) she much enjoyed, when the scant
leisure came. (The last books she had in reading were:
“The Earth's Formation on Dynamical Principles,” by
A. T. Ritchie; Goodwin's Works; “The Life and
Letters of the Rev. W. Pennefather,” of which she said,
“I find such food in that book;” and “The Upward
Gaze,” by her friend Agnes Giberne, with which she was
delighted; and books by the Rev. G. Everard.)
May I sketch her at her study table, in her favourite
A STUDY SATE 7'CH'. 209
chair from Astley Rectory, older than herself? Her
American type-writer was close by, so that she could turn
to it from her desk; it was a great relief to her eyes, but
its rapid working often told me she was busy when she
should have rested. Her desk and table drawers were
all methodically arranged for letters from editors, friends,
relatives, strangers, matters of business, multitudinous
requests, Irish Society work, manuscripts; paper and
string in their allotted corners, no litter ever allowed. It
was at her study table that she read her Bible by seven
o'clock in the summer and eight o'clock in winter; her
Hebrew Bible, Greek Testament, and lexicons being at
hand. Sometimes, on bitterly cold mornings, I begged
that she would read with her feet comfortably to the fire,
and received the reply: “But then, Marie, I can’t rule
my lines neatly; just see what a find I’ve got! If one
only searches, there are such extraordinary things in the
Bible !”
Her harp-piano was placed on a stand she contrived by
dexterous carpentering. It was at this instrument she
composed her last sacred song, “Loving all Along,” and
many other melodies to her hymns in “Loyal Responses.”
. Often I heard flashes of melody thereon, that came un-
bidden amid severer work. -
In the south window, its sea view stretching over to
Ilfracombe, stood her little table, flowers, and easy chair.
Her sofa faced the west window, with the view of Caswell
Bay and its rocks, and there the sunsets came, which we
so often watched together.
It may be useful to younger readers to mention how
resolutely she refrained from late hours, and frittering
talks at night, instead of Bible searching and holy com-
* “Loyal Responses,” musical edition, Hutchings & Romer.
O
§
2IO MEMORIAzs of A. R. H.
o
munings. Early rising and early studying were her rule
through life, while punctuality, and bright, quick, cheeri-
ness characterized all she did. She writes: “‘An order'
(1 Cor. xiv. 40) is something more than being tidy / some-
thing analogous to “keeping rank.” -
To a friend, Frances wrote at this time:
I don't think I ever felt more thankful and glad for
anything than on reaching this quiet little nest. God has
so graciously and perfectly met our special need. I must
pass on to you the last text I have been enjoying,
Exodus xv. 13; what can we want more 1 and it is Thy
mercy and strength all along. And then the “holy
habitation” of the present, and the future one, from which
we shall “go no more out.”
But the “lull in life” never came, even in Wales,
“Aest/" There is none for me apparently. Every
post brings more letters from strangers alone than I and
my sister can answer. It is nine months since I have
had a chance of doing a stroke of new work | But
letters were a trouble to Nehemiah as well as to me
(Neh. vi. 4), and I must try to make it always work for
my King.
It may seem strange that she should have had so to
wear her strength away; and the following requests,
which came by one post, will show what labour was
required in answering them all:
Request for contribution to Irish Church Advocate.
Hymns for special New Year services wanted. To
write cards suitable for mourners. For set of six more
“Marching Orders.” Request for poems to illustrate
six pictures. For prayer, sympathy and counsel (two
sheets crossed). Two sheets from a septuagenarian,
requiring thought. Request to write a book suitable for
Unitarians. Sundry inquiries and apologies from one
who had been printing her verses with another author's
A MORAW/AWG'S FOST. 2II
name. Request to reprint an article, with four explana-
tory enclosures. Also to revise a proof and add my
opinion. To revise many sheets of musical manuscripts.
Three requests to supply cards for bazaars. Advice
wanted how to get articles inserted in magazines. To
recommend pupils. To promote a new magazine. To
give opinion on an oratorio. Some long poems in
manuscript to revise and advise thereon. Besides
packets of leaflets and cards wanted.
In addition to all this, musical proofs reached her
almost daily, which often required many hours of careful
revision and thought; and those accustomed to the
sight of the Fºreside Almanack will remember how “the
sayings of the Lord Jesus” had there been arranged by
her for the year which was her last. All this absorbed
an amount of time which can scarcely now be realized;
and yet she always wrote pleasantly and cheerily, and
many a word of refreshment came from that wearied
hand. Unasked, she undertook to chapterise the manu-
script of “Never Say Die,” and to add the required
headings. Writing to S. G. P., she says:
Time spent on it is overpaid; it brings to me all the
sweetness and freshness of the old, old story. I keep
reading it for myself. My sister agrees with me that
the book is exceptional, and in fact unique; and I do
trust that you may have, or rather that the Master may
have, a very harvest of souls from its circulation.
To its author, when working among the mourners at
the Nant-y-glo colliery, she writes:
I enclose you a wee bit more, it has been quite a
weight on my mind that I could not do more to help
such terrible need. I was pledged to other collections,
and my own purse is not unfathomable. So I was
driven to do at last what I had much better have done
* “Never Say Dia.” By S. G. Prout, Nisbet & Co,
2 I 2 MAZ MOA’AAA.S. OA' A'. R. H.
at first, viz., pray that the Lord would show me some
way of sending a little, and of course two or three ways
flashed into my mind. May the good Lord give you
many souls for your hire for this service,
(To Cecilia.)
THE MUMBLEs, October 1878.
DEAR CECI,-
. . . . VI have often found that the greater the
difficulties, the greater the very “present help;} and of
course Jesus will be “the same” to you, dear Ceci.
. . If ever one had gracious guidance in one's life it is
now ; the place is so precisely what we wanted, a regular
case of Philippians iv. 19. I was terribly tired and used
up when I got here, but am ever so much better already,
though the “rest” has at present been only as to no
“interviews.” . . . Must hand on to you and Edith
the text which more than any other has struck me in our
readings lately; I have lived on it.
Exod Led forth An Thy mercy.
xodus xv. 13. Guided In Thy strength.
What would one have more 1 And then :
Redemption | | past.
Holy habitation present: Ps, xci. 9.
3 ſº ſº º future,
“Sweet is Thy mercy,” and “great is Thy mercy toward
me.” On Sunday look at Exodus xxxii. 29, and connect
with John vi. 53-55. Think of “those things” and
“eat” them : living on, and satisfied with, Christ's
precious body and blood. “Eat, O friends !”
Your loving Aunt,
(To an American Friend.)
- October 28, 1878.
My DEAR MRs. BRUNOT,
I have not forgotten that I have owed you a letter
for a long time. And I owe one to — and Mrs.
A.E 7"TEA’.S. 213
McCready. Now would you be so very kind as to for-
ward this letter to them, and will they be so very kind
as to accept it instead of separate letters. tº e
Most graciously God strengthened my health wonder-
fully, as the need deepened during the long and terrible
suffering of my poor dear mother, a marked instance of
“as thy day.” Still, of course, the strain on mind and
body has been very great, both for my dear elder sister
Maria and myself.
Next followed all that is involved in a final break up
of home, and overlooking the accumulations of half a
century—all my precious father's books, papers, etc.
The beginning of this month my dear sister and I came
here, and settled into snug lodgings on the ridge of the
western horn of Swansea Bay (six miles from Swansea).
I simply could not live, I think, anywhere within hail
of London, nor much longer in any such lively place as
Leamington. So I have got away, now, well out of every-
Dody's reach I am trying, trying, trying, in a sort of
Tantalian hopelessness, to overtake the letters that pour
in on me, and to fulfil such requests as I have already
promised. But, very seriously, I feel that unless I draw
a line hard and fast, and refuse everybody all round all
that is asked me to do, until I have cleared up the said
promises and secured a little rest, I shall get mentally as
well as bodily exhausted. So, dear friend, I must decline
to write what you ask for; it is always pain to me to say
“no,” and I might keep a secretary only to write these
refusals. That is all the outside. As for under the
surface, of course it is the old story of marvels of love
and faithfulness, from microscopically minute to grandly
magnificent, and sometimes the minutest seem the most
magnificent. I don't think all the previous years, put
together, equal this last twelve months for these daily
miracles of love. Only, most of them, and the most
wonderful, are from special circumstances, such as have
to remain among the secrets between one's own soul and
the ever dearer Master. . . . . "It seems to me
that God has done for me more than He promised,
9
214 MEMORIAA.S OF F. R. E.
º
not only supplying all my need, but all my notions.
wº . Our present abode suits us so perfectly in all
manner of little ways, that I tell our gracious Father I
really don't know how to thank Him enough for it.
How I should like to meet my American
friends! But I dare not come over, I should be sick
all the way, and only be a trouble to you; but, “there
shall be no more sea l’’
(Zo S. G. P.)
“Blessed is he that considereth the poor, the Lord
shall deliver him in the time of trouble.” So, dear friend
“thou art, now, the blessed of the Lord.” Mozeſ, while I
am writing and when you are reading the words, “now”
the “blessed” of Jehovah. That word “blessed” seems
to me like a grand outline, traced with one sweep of
Jehovah's mighty pencil; and who shall say what the
filling up shall be P Because, you see, it is not our
idea of “blessed,” but God's own idea of it that
will fill it up. I think, sometimes, Christian workers
do not take the great comfort for themselves that the
good Lord means and has provided for them ; there is
a sort of shrinking from presuming to appropriate the
conditional character connected with a promise, even
when it is quite distinctly applicable; and I regard
this as a device of the enemy to contrive to withhold
from them the whole glorious comfort which belongs
to them. He puts it as a sort of humility; and I think
it must grieve our dear Master to have His kindness thus
frustrated. So, somehow, I am exceedingly anxious to-
day that you should just revel in the grand definiteness,
and the still grander indefiniteness, of this word, which
is yours at this moment. If words mean anything, you
have been considering the poor; and so, if words mean
anything, you are “blessed.” I have been praying that
the Lord would water your own soul very abundantly in
the midst of your watering, that you may find more and
more “fresh springs” in Himself, and may receive every
*
WORK. A 7" EFOME. 215
day His own anointing with “fresh oil” for your service.
You are treading peculiarly closely in the plain footsteps
of the Master, your “own Master;” and you have not
even to wait for His sure “Come, ye blessed,” you have
the fore-echo of it now. May He Himself whisper it into
your heart in the midst of your work, which “He is not
unrighteous to forget.” May I give you another thought?
He is sending you into the places whither He Himself
will come: Luke x. I. You go into one of these places
of suffering, because Jesus Himself will come there, come
with His saving power or His pitying love.
The cottagers around us soon won my sister's interest
and regard, and she invited them to a Bible reading in
our house (I may say that she never began any work of
this kind without the Vicar's consent).” She wrote to
ask “ for a real great blessing on an open Bible class
which I am starting this evening. I don't know who will
come, few or many; but I want God's real converting
grace poured out, and I want to be enabled so to speak
of Jesus that souls may be won to Him. There is the
centre; how it just goes through one, when one touches
upon His own beloved name. And how we do want
Him to be understood and loved.”
(To .)
I have just been preparing for my next Bible reading.
You thought I used a great many texts in my Bible notes,
but it is my way of work. I very seldom run on a dozen
lines in any book without embodying a text. I don't see
how one can put too large a proportion of God’s own
words among our own. He never said our words should
* I may also add (to remove misapprehension) that this work
was not in or connected with the town of Swansea, where she only
once took the Y. W. C. A. meeting, but in the village of Newton,
six miles from that town.
216 AfEMORAAES OF F. R. F.
not return void. Besides, I have got into the way of it.
I don't want to be a spider spinning out of myself! I
am so interested in my Bible class. I have just been
telling one of them I don't wish to lead them a nice in-
teresting walk all round the walls of the city of refuge,
and get them to think what a charming place it is ; I
want to give them a good hard push inside.
The room in which the class was held was always full.
She began at once with a subject selected from the
Christian Progress chapter for the day, asking all who
came to read the intervening chapters by the next meet-
ing, and thus ensuring that study of God's word she so
eagerly sought to encourage. She told me that illustra-
tions seemed to overflow upon her when speaking, and
the reality of her words certainly thrilled her hearers.
The last evening, she was so exhausted that I persuaded
her to give up her class, and not to attempt larger meet-
ings in the Newton schoolroom, which had been thought
of.
On the fourth anniversary of December 2nd 1873, my
dear sister had written:
It was a peculiarly trying day as to other things; but,
as I was remembering that blessed day, and all the
blessedness of the way ever since, and the words in
Jeremiah ii. 2, I cannot tell you the sweetness of it and .
the assurance that He was indeed remembering me.
“The love of thine espousals.” Do look at the verse,
for it applies just as much to you, dear H , as to me.
Only, it is but very rarely He gives me such a vividly
felt message of love. I think it was that He saw I was
in special need of it; it was just like Him to send it.
The hymn in “Loyal Responses,” “My Lord, dost
Thou remember me?” bears the same date,
A LAST A NAV/PAEA’SAA’ F’. 217
On the fifth and last anniversary, December 2nd,
1878, Frances writes:
(To J. T. W.)
I had a great time early this morning, renewing the
never regretted consecration. I seemed led to run
over the “Take my life,” and could bless Him verse by
verse for having led me on to much more definite con-
secration than even when I wrote it, voice, gold, in-
tellect, etc. But the eleventh couplet, “love,”—that has
been unconsciously not filled up. Somehow, I felt
mystified and out of my depth here: it was a simple and
definite thing to be done, to settle the voice, or silver and
gold ! but “love?” I have to love others, and I do;
and I’ve not a small treasure of it, and even loving in
Him does not quite meet the inner difficulty. Of course,
I told Him all that was in my heart as far down as ever
I knew it myself, and that He knew the rest, and
so I could only hand over the whole concern to Him,
and implore Him to make it clear and definite. I don’t
see much clearer, or feel much different ; but I have said
intensely this morning, “Take my love,” and He knows
I have. So I did not fidget any more, or worry the
Master any more about it. I shall just go forward and
expect Him to fill it up, and let my life from this day
answer really to that couplet. The worst part to me is
that I don't in practice prove my love to Him, by delight
in much and long communion with Him; hands and
head seem so full of “other things” (which yet are His
given work), that “heart” seems not “free to serve” in
fresh and vivid love.
Swiftly were her words to be realised:
“For He hath met my longing
With word of golden tone,
That I shall serve for ever
Himself, Himself alone.
},
213 MEMORALS OF F. R. H.
Shall serve Him, and for ever;
O hope most sure, most fair
The perfect love outpouring
$3. ſº }}
In perfect service there !
From my notebook:
December 17, 1878. The sun was shining in our
breakfast room, when Frances said: “It is a great
mercy the sunshine of heaven is veiled from our sight,
or we should be just unfit for earthly duties. I think
there is a gravitation of the soul to life, as there is in
bodies to the earth. It's delightful being here; it was
curious the strong impression I had to come, I think
God gave me the wish, and it has turned out all right.
It is like what poor Howells said to me on the cliffs
yesterday. I met him in his threadbare coat, and he
told me how good the Lord was to him, and then,
as if talking to Him not to me, he said, ‘He's been
£articularly good to me!’”
“That splendid sovereign will of our God, made up of
lnfinite love and infinite wisdom, nothing seems out of
perspective when this is our standpoint; all His words
and all His ways then stand out, harmonized and
beautiful.” -
“Perhaps in heaven we shall be permitted to remember
all the way the Lord led us, and to recall distinctly all
the puzzling parts of His guidance and providence, so
to see glory reflected back from them, as it were, upon
His wonderful wisdom.”
(To —.)
December 16, 1878.
DEAREST H-,
You regularly overwhelm me with such kindness.
Tell Mr. Bullock I don’t deserve the Fºreside annuals
and Tablets, one bit. The beautiful shawl will be such
a comfort. . . . Tell the dear juniors I shall imagine
there is a little packet of love in the top of each finger of
the delightful gloves. . . . The Memoir of Mr.
zAst chrisTMAS VERSEs. 219
Pennefather will always be a treasure to me. Do you
see that he was a pledged supporter of the Irish Society?
I was charmed when I saw that 1 I know people wonder
why I am so warm about it, but you see I am in first-
rate company | .
Very early on her last Christmas morning she awoke
in severe pain, and was very ill for some days. But she
said cheerily: “I really have had such songs given me
in the night, and some Christmas verses for next year
came so easily.” An hour after: “Oh, Marie, I’ve done
a half-day's work already, a whole set of mottoes; it
seemed poured into me.” These she named “Christmas
Sunshine,” and “Love and Light for the New Year.”
“You can’t think the enjoyment it is to me to produce
anything new. What books I should write if I had time !
I wonder if I shall always be so pressed with other things;
but never mind, it is all “service.’” And then she spoke
of her own mother and the little prayer she taught her:
“‘O Lord, prepare me for all Thou art preparing for
me;’ that has been my life prayer.” Many days of pain
and weakness followed, and the doctor wished her to
have perfect rest. I was most thankful to write all the
letters i could for her now, and at other times. Dear
wearied sister 1 once she said: “I do hope the angels
will have orders to let me alone a bit, when I first get to
heaven "
*
s
C H A P T E R XIV.
(1879.)
New Year's sunshine—Journal of Mercies—Prayer and intercessions
— “Work, if the Lord will” – London — His law a delight —
Prospering — “Loving all Along” – “Bruey” success — Irish
plans — Temperance work — The oldest friend's visit – “Can
I go to India?”— Last Y. W. C. A. address — “Little Nony”
— Last letters — Costly stones — The last “Sunday crumb’”
card.
“AND so the years flowed on, and only cast
Light, and more light, upon the shining way,
That more and more shone to the perfect day;
Always intenser, clearer than the past;
Because they only bore her, on glad wing,
Nearer the Light of Light, the Presence of her King.”
(“Zenith.”)
REMEMBER her New Year's greeting (i.e., January
1, 1879), “‘He crowneth the year with His good-
mess,’ and He crowneth me “with lovingkindness and
tender mercies.’ You, dear Marie, are one of my mer-
cies; and I do hope He will let me do something for
you up in heaven ſ”
A diary she never kept; but Mrs. Charles Bullock
sent her a little “Journal of Mercies for 1879.” The
entries in this are a mirror of her very self, “in every-
thing giving thanks.” Frances wrote in acknowledg-
ment :
“Thanks for the charming Journal you sent me, I like
it greatly. I put down whichever “mercy’ seems upper-
most in my mind for each day; not one in a thousand
though I’”
ŽOURNAL OF MERCIES. 22I
53
95
92
; 3
$ 2
J 2
3 J.
§ 5
93.
We believe the entries for the first three months will
interest our readers.
F. R. H.’s “Journal of MERCIES” For 1879.
Jan. Ist.
2nd.
3rd.
4th.
5th.
6th,
7th.
8th.
9th.
Ioth.
IIth.
12th.
I3th.
I4th.
I5th.
16th.
17th.
18th.
19th.
20th.
2Ist.
22nd.
23rd.
24th.
25th.
26th.
27th.
28th.
29th.
3oth.
31st.
3 *
Feb. Ist.
2nd.
3rd.
4th.
5th.
6th.
7th.
8th.
9th.
Ioth.
Able to come downstairs first time.
Sleep.
Maria, and all her care of me. -
Opportunities of speaking of Christ,
Rest and leisure to-day.
Warmth and comfort.
Spirit of prayer in answer to prayer. “
Relief from mental pressure.
Maria's health and strength renewed,
Being enabled to cast care on God.
Having money to give away. O
Finding great spoil in the Word.
Deliverance out of many trials and difficulties.
Being withheld from resuming work, and sense of God’s
wise hand in it.
For His hand upon me in weakness.
Finding something of the habit of trust.
A little respite from letter writing.
Milder and beautiful weather.
Opportunity of help to Mrs. M-.
That blessing may reach the Princess Beatrice.
Clearance of my path.
My study I
More strength.
Help in writing for C. S. S. M.
The promise in Deuteronomy xxx. 6.
Head and eyes decidedly better.
Being evidently sent to the Mumbles.
Travelling mercies.
Travelling opportunities (to London).
Kindness from Mr. and Mrs. W e
Being allowed to give a word of real comfort.
Being in N. and Co.'s hands.
A happy Sunday.
Acceptance by Hutchings and Romer of “Loving all
Along.” *
Immediate answer to prayer.
Strength for extra pulls.
Shielding from cold and rain.
Need supplied.
Pleasant guidance.
Dr. D——'s sermons,
Safe transit to Rev. C. Bullock's,
NJ
222 MEMORYAZS OF F. R. Hº.
Feb. 11th. Quiet day.
,, 12th. Hettie B.'s friendship,
,, I3th. Portrait finished.
,, I4th. Pleasant interviews with good men,
,, I5th. Finishing “Echoes,” and seeing Amy and Clement.
,, 16th. Frustration of plans, and solemn lessons.
,, 17th. Such a comfortable nest to come back to.
,, 18th. Our good maid, Mary Farington.
,, 19th. Fresh air.
,, 20th. Immediate answer to prayer for a token for good,
,, 21st. Help in need.
,, 22nd. Done with some musical work,
,, 23rd. Freedom from pain.
,, 24th. Able to walk about.
,, 25th. Opportunities of usefulness.
, 26th, Finding the Lord's poor.
,, 27th. Maria returned all right.
* , , 28th. Fulfilment of Psalm xxxvii. 5, 6.
Mar. Ist. Spring Sunshine !
,, 2nd. Strange experience.
,, 3rd. Freedom.
,, 4th. Maria's writing letters for me.
,, 5th. Preservation from cold.
,, 6th. Finding myself freed from what was temptation.
* , , 7th. Answer to prayer that the Lord's call might not be
wasted.
,, 8th. Beautiful spring sunset.
,, 9th. Irresponsibility to any but my Master,
,, Ioth. Finishing my “Kept.”
,, IIth. Donkeys I (i.e., first donkey ride.)
* , , 12th. Special application of I Peter iv. 14.
,, 13th. For God's withholdings all my life.
,, I4th. A good day's work done.
,, 15th. Contentment in walking by faith, not by sight,
,, 16th. Having been guided here.
,, 17th. Succeeded in starting Mary F-- with a Sunday
School class.
,, 18th. Clearer views of Jesus.
,, 19th. Acceptance among poor.
,, 20th. H— converted, and O— P— consecrated.
,, 21st. Irish Society success far beyond my asking.
,, 22nd. Study Comforts.
,, 23rd. Grace not dependent on means.
, 24th. Preservation from fire.
,, 25th. Pardon and victory.
, 26th. Permitted to speak out to —, and setting Board
School Bible reading afloat.
1, 27th. Instant guidance in sudden emergency,
,, 28th, Preservation from a serious fall.
Vº
AZBZE SEAA’CAH/MGS. 223
Mar. 29th. Faculties.
,, 30th. A Gospel sermon at church.
,, 31st. Musical gifts.
She had referenced two of Bagster's Bibles, the Old
Testament, as well as the New, showing her diligent
searchings. Truly, her delight was in the law of the
Lord, it was always her standard of appeal; and, by Com-
paring Scripture with Scripture, she grasped its all-sided
truth, rejoicing therein as one that findeth great spoil.
To her niece Cecilia she wrote:
In reading the Scripture it is best to combine plans.
Once a day read straight on, with prayer and careful
referencing. But always try to give a half hour to Bible
study; work out Bible subjects, and make notes of
them. I will give you two or three which I have found
profitable.
What does the Bible say God is { ºf
“Foerlasting.” Search out and classify the places where it is
used. (This is very comforting, “everlasting covenant,” “ever-
lasting joy,” etc.)
“Called.” How is our “calling” described? Unto what are we
** called P”
“Reep.” Who will keep 7 Whom does He keep? From what
does He keep?
“Able.” See how applied to Christ; arrange in order.
Keep a fine steel pen on purpose at hand, and mark the
references you thus find in your own Bible, this will
greatly enrich it. . . . This plan is very helpful,
both for intellectual and spiritual knowledge of His word.
SUBJECTs FoR PRAYER. (Found in F. R. H.’s Bible.)
t (1878–9.)
“I have greatly enjoyed the regular praying of the
Lord's Prayer, and take a petition each morning in the
week. Intercession for others I generally make at even-
ing. I take the fruits of the Holy Spirit in the same
way, and find this helpful.”
224 MAEMORIAA.S OF AZ A’. H.
SA
*:
GENERAL.
Morning. AEvening.
For the Holy Spirit. For forgiveness and cleansing.
Perfect trust all day. Mistakes overruled.
Watchfulness. Blessing on all said, written,
To be kept from sin. and done.
That I may please Him. & For conformity to His will and
Guidance, growth in grace. Christ's likeness.
That I may do His will. That His will may be done in
That He would use my mind, lips, me.
pen, all. • For a holy night.
Blessing and guidance in each en- Confession.
gagement and interview of the For every one for whom I have
day. been specially asked to pray.
SPECIAL SUBJECTS.—SUNDAY.
That I may make the most of Sabbath hours, and gain much from
the word.
Deliverance from wandering thoughts.
Pure praise.
Blessing on services and choir.
“Hallowed be Thy name.’
Intercessions. (Initials of many clergymen, of her brother, hel
godchildren, and “our servants.”)
Monday. “For joy and Peace.”
That the life of Jesus may be manifest in me.
“Thy kingdom come.”
Intercession for Church Missionary Society and Irish Society,
(Initials of her eldest sister, all her family, and “Oakhampton
servants.”)
TUESDAY. “For Longsuffering.”
That my unconscious influence may be all for Him.
“Thy will be done.”
Intercession for Mildmay (and initials of her brother Henry's
children and many Leamington friends).
WEDNESDAY. ** Gentleness.”
For spirit of prayer and shadowless communion.
“Give us this day our daily bread.”
Intercession for the universities and public schools, for many
friends, for M. V. G. H., and E. C.
THURSDAY. “Goodness.”
For much fruit to His praise. Soul winning. Spirit of praise.
“Forgive us our trespasses.”
Local work. Swansea, and Mrs. Morgan. For my sister Ellen,
all at Winterdyne, “and the servants.” -
§
G
SUB???cTS FOR PRA YEA. 225
FRIDAY. “Aaith.”
Wisdom to be shown more of His will and commands.
“Lead us not into temptation.”
For my brother and all at Upton Bishop.
SATURDAY. “Meekness and Temperance.”
That the word of Christ may dwell in me richly, open treasures of
Thy word to me, fill my seed basket.
“Deliver us from evil.”
For the Church of England and the Queen.
Initials of many friends.
WoRK For 1879: “If the Lord will.”
(In F. R. H.’s Desk.)
To write “Starlight through the Shadows,” daily book for
invalids. Six more Church Missionary Society papers. “Marching
Orders.” Set “Loyal Responses” to music. * Prepare “Kept”
for press. To write “Lilies from the Waters of Quietness” (poem).
“About Bible Reading and Bible marking,” magazine article.
* “All Things;” work up my notes. “Particularly good to me,”
verses or short article. “The Stray Kitten,” juvenile paper. Work
up C. S. S. M. anecdotes into papers or book. * Complete twelve
“Wayside Chimes” for Home Words. * Select or write “Echoes
from the Word” for Day of Days. * Double sets of New Year's
mottoes (Caswell). “Bright thoughts for Dark Days.” Series of
Irish Sketches for Day of Days. On “Sunday Postal Burdens;”
how to relieve the postmen. “Our Brother;” or daily thoughts
for those who love Him. * “Morning Stars,” daily thoughts about
Jesus for little ones. “Evening Stars,” or promises for the little
ones. Complete the series of “Sunday Morning Crumbs.” Six
poems for Sunday Magazine.
[The daily pressure of letters prevented many of these being at-
tempted; * denotes those completed.]
January 28th she went to London, visiting Mr. and
Mrs. Watson and the Rev. C. Bullock. Other visits
were proposed, but singularly frustrated by the appear-
ance of infectious illness in her dear friend's (Mrs.
Bullock's) family, and she thought it right to return
speedily to Wales. The day she went to town I read
(at prayers) the Christian Progress chapter for the day,
Deuteronomy xxxiii. 1–17. Afterwards Frances said:
“I wondered if you read the eighteenth verse. It is a
fresh promise for me. You say I belong to the tribe of
P
226 MEMORIA D.S OF F. R. H.
Zebulun, “them that handle the pen,’ and early this
morning I read “rejoice Zebulun in thy going out,’ and so
I do in going to London. I never went a journey I
feel so delighted about. I gave up the thought of going
last week, for I wanted to make the most of my time
and money for my King, and didn't want to please
myself a bit. Then, after prayer about it, that promise
seemed to direct my going, “Certainly I will be with
thee,’ and I have had no misgiving since.”
On her return from London her work seemed to
increase; letters poured in ; many came for advice or
instruction, and she gave up every available moment. I
distinctly remember the gladness of her service, delight-
ing to do whatever seemed the will of the Lord. One
morning she said to me: “Marie, it is really very
remarkable how everything I do seems to prosper and
flourish. There is my “ Bruey Branch" growing and
increasing, and now the Temperance work. And so
many letters tell me that God is blessing my little
books. I thought this morning why it was so; in the
first Psalm we have the condition and the promise: ‘his
delight is in the law of the Lord; . . . and whatso-
ever he doeth shall prosper.' You know how I do love
my Bible, more and more; and so, of course, the
promise comes true to me.”
To our Vicar and other friends she sent this simple
request for prayer, asking them to sign their own names
and secure others to join :
“I agree to pray every evening for three months from
this date (God helping me), for the outpouring of His
Holy Spirit upon this parish and neighbourhood.”—F. R.
H., March 7, 1879. -
It was as answer to this prayer that my sister attributed
the awakening interest which much encouraged her in
daily conversations in the cottages around us.
AAAASH AAWD SCHOOL WORK. 227
In the village school her frequent visits and bright
words won the deepest love. To encourage them to
learn God's word perfectly, she offered a new Bible to
every child who would repeat the 53rd chapter of Isaiah.
Good Friday was the day fixed, but she was ill then. A
few days after, she was delighted with the perfect repeti-
tion by many of the children; and, though she would not
excuse a single mistake, she gave some another trial. I
was often struck with the pains she took with very little
children, so really making the gospel story glad news to
them. -
Once she went rather unwillingly to return a stranger's
call. She afterwards told me she was quite ashamed of
her reluctance (though it arose from weariness), for she
had “found such direct work,” adding: “I must screw
up to a notch higher, and improve all conversations.
Certainly my King is very good, to give me such nice
little bits of work for Him.”
In the early part of March, Frances re-wrote and
completed her last book, “Kept.” She told me she
could work but slowly and with some difficulty, owing to
pressure of other things. Again and again, she said how
strongly she felt that her pen was to be used only for the
Master, and how she had found His blessing in that
course hitherto. My sister had also begun a series of
papers for invalids; but it seemed strongly impressed on
her that the children should have a turn, and so she
rapidly wrote “Morning Stars.”
She was interested in looking over some musical
settings to her words by Mr. Purday, an old corre-
spondent of our father's. She approved of the title,
“Songs of Peace and Joy;” and against some of his
tunes wrote “very sweet,” “very good,” “fair, third
strain interesting,” etc,
228 MEMORYALS OF F. R. H.
Ç
My dear sister was delighted that Messrs. Hutchings
and Romer accepted for publication her music to Mr.
Prout's words “Loving all Along.”
To S. G. A.
. . About your “Loving all Along.” I wrote the
music to suit myself, and I never yet found words
which were so exactly what I wanted. I hope to sing it
In many drawing-rooms, it is delightful to do the King's
business there, and singing often opens the door for quiet
conversations. I do so pray the words may touch some
weary hearts under silks and satins, and dress-coats too,
may-be. . . . - -
All the same, I do not think the song will ever be
popular, because it is just one of those which are utterly
ruined if stumbled over, or even if well played by one
who does not dash off the recitative-like style with real
spirit, and bring out the sharp contrasts which give
effect.
e Seriously, dear friend, the points have been
carried one after another; Hutchings and Romer accept-
ing it, Sankey saying it haunts him, and taking it to
America; now two prayers, that God will make it accept-
able, and most of all that He will let it do real work and
send the great power of His Spirit with it.
P.S.—The best last ! converted by “N. S. D.”
He was slightly ill; I called, talked, and prayed twice
or three times, and gave him “Never Say Die.” And
that was blessed Now give thanks
THE MUMBLES, March 25, 1879.
DEAREST G—,
is ſº I am being answered about my “ Bruey
Branch” to an extent that literally alarms me ! I don't
know how I can keep pace with the influx of young
collectors, and the Dublin secretaries are “astonished.”
I sent up 24, Io& a few days ago, and that is only what
comes to me; Mr. Roe tells me hundreds of “Bruey”
PyoA'A' A'OR THE ARISH SOCIETY. 229
cards are being taken all over the kingdom, and I see
the whole thing will want complete organising. I myself
have sent up, including Miss E. Titterton's, no less than
seventy-nine collectors' lists and amounts, and I began
two years ago with a list of eight collectors, consequently
I am believing in prayer a little more than ever !
THE MUMBLES, March 28.
DEAR WILLIE AND ALFRED [SHAw].
Is the Green Isle big enough to hold you and me at
the same time, do you think? Because, if it is, I am
thinking, please God, of coming over about the begin-
ning of June. The real reason why I have made up my
mind to brave the terrors of the deep, i.e. of the ladies'
cabin, is that things are growing so marvellously fast in
my department of the Irish Society work, that I must go
and see for myself what is being done in the fields of work,
and also have a regular consultation at head quarters
about organising the “ Bruey Branch,” which is sprout-
ing like anything in all directions. And now the thing
is, I want one of you to come with me (of course at my
expense), on a sort of tour round some of the Irish
stations. I think it will be delightful. The fun would
be to have you both ; but that might complicate matters
as to accommodation in some of these “backwoods,” so
how would it be if one of you came, for the first week
or two, and then change over? I thought it would be
such a very nice opportunity for you to see something
of the land of your birth beyond the civilization of
college and the metropolis Think it over and pray
over it, and let me know what conclusion you come to.
If one of you could come, you would probably be a great
comfort, as you would see to such matters as hiring cars
for me and other small services. It is not only that I
really want to see the work for myself, as I am getting
more and more deeply pledged to it, but we have got
Mr. Bullock to make the ZXay of Days a sort of quasi
Irish Society organ, he having put two pages of the
23o MEMORALS OF F. R. F.
magazine at our disposal every month, instead of our
going to the expense of setting up a separate magazine
for the Society's information. This was my scheme, and
we are starting pretty well; but they want me extremely
to write some papers for it, and I tell them I can't make
brick without straw, and therefore if I am to write I
must go to Ireland. Let me know as soon as you can
when your term ends, and you would be at liberty. Mr.
Fitzpatrick is very anxious to make part of his inspecting
tour fit in with mine, so as to show me that part of the
work, which of course would be a great advantage to
my papers; but I tell him that I wish, also, to see some
of the undress as well as the full parade, so he is to be
with us part of the time, and I am to visit some stations
by myself. I have stipulated that I only go to observe
and take notes, not to take classes or give addresses,
as I have not strength for that ; and to keep myself
fresh for the writing, which I want to do as much as
possible on the spot, is far more important.
- Your loving Aunt.
The following letter refers to the action taken by her on
the Total Abstinence question :
(To Eustace Havergal.)
April 12, 1879.
DEAR EUSTACE,-
. . . As to actual signing I only deferred that, that
I might use the act at good interest, which I did by
getting six persons to sign with me. . . . I have found
by experience, as thousands of other Christian workers
are finding, that this “outward and visible sign” is just
the needed means to prevent the beginnings of that terri-
ble evil. See now, I have here eight growing lads, besides
several others, all in surroundings of more or less tempt-
ation, who have signed my book and are thus helped to
say no ; and, instead of swimming with the stream, not
one has been into a public-house since, trying their best
AEA.S. 72% ºf PZSZTOA’.S. 231
to get others to abstain also. . . . I could not feel
impatient at your not seeing it yet, because four or five
years ago I felt exactly as you do; but, hearing so much
of the great work done by this means, I set myself to pray
for clear light and guidance about it, asking that I might
be able to lay aside prejudice on the one hand, and that
* I might be kept from going without God's leading on the
other. From that time, conviction gradually dawned and
deepened in my mind that I could not hold aloof from a
movement on which God has set so very evident a seal
of blessing. .
Endorsed on a pamphlet dealing with the Total
Abstinence question, enclosed in the same letter, is the
following:
I have gone in altogether for it now, and find it gives
me opportunities at once which I had not before.
- May 1, 1879.
tº I haven't taken up teetotal work, but teetotal
work has taken up me ! Morgan and Scott made me
accept a big, handsome, pledge book in February, and
somehow the thing has fairly caught fire here. One led
to another, and yesterday boys were coming all day
to sign! I had twenty-five recruits yesterday alone, and a
whole squad more are coming this evening ! and we are
going in for getting EVERY boy in the whole village 1
And now, “Please, miss, mayn't the girls sign P’ So
I’ve got to open a girls' branch as well ! So work grows 1
I adopt the title of “The Newton Temperance Regi-
ment,” to please my boys, who are a strong majority in it,
and very hearty about it. I do love these little lads.
Our dear and faithful friend, Elizabeth Clay, was with
us at Easter. Frances was deeply interested in the
details of her Indian journeys and Zenana work, and
consulted with her as to the possibility of eventually
going to India herself, that she might be able to write for
232 MEMORIA LS OF F. R. H.
her King in Oriental languages. Frances was not at all
well, and a feverish cold prevented her from singing when
Mr. and Mrs. Sankey paid us a pleasant visit. To them
she spoke much of the bright City, and that music which
alone could satisfy her intense craving.
Almost the last time we walked to church together,
she turned round to me and said: “Marie, I’ve come to
the conclusion it will be very nice to go to heaven The
perfect harmony, the perfect praise, no jarring tunes.
You don't know the intense enjoyment it is to me to sing
in part music. I don't think I could hear the Hallelujah
Chorus and not sing it; but there— l’”
Another Sunday evening, not being able to go to
church, she called Mary to read with her. Searching into
the meaning of those words (John viii. 51), “If a man
keep My saying he shall never see death,” her conclusion
was, “so, when we come to die, our eyes will so really
see Jesus Himself that we shall not see death.” Thus it
was to her:
“Death is a hushed and glorious tryst,
With Thee, my King, my Saviour Christ l”
Truly, her loyal life shone brightly, day by day. Her
appeals stirred many a one to choose the King's service.
I think it was April 17th she took (once only) the Young
Women's Christian Association meeting in Swansea for her
friend, Mrs. Morgan. They well remember how she
played and sang with them, “Precious Saviour, may I live,
only for Thee!” (to her tune “Onesimus.”) At the close
of her address she took round to each a copy of
“Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee,”
with a blank space, where each might sign her name who
Tº ZAST MOAVTH, 233
could do so, in true and loyal allegiance. My dear
sister always went to such meetings, in the truest
humility of spirit. She often said, “I can only ask the
Lord to give me words; I am only learning, myself, day
by day;” but a real power seemed to rest on all her
words, and especially during the last years.
Our friend the Baroness Helga von Cramm joined us
in May. She thought dear Frances looking well and
young and bright. We had some pleasant seaside walks;
and Frances sat by her friend, on the sands, when she
sketched the “Mumbles Lighthouse.” Many kind friends
near us, and their children and servants, wondered at the
sweetness and power with which my sister spoke to them .
for and of her Lord and King.
(To Mrs. H.)
May 5, 1879.
Thank God for her 1 and thank God that you are able
to thank Him. I never read anything sweeter than
* Nony's welcome to her Lord's coming for her. I have
ventured to keep a copy of your beautiful letter to º
Would you let me make some extract from it in my next
circulars? I should so like to tell my dear little collectors
about Nony, whose name will be highest on the list in
the next report. I feel it such a privilege to have been
permitted to number this little saint of God among
my little band of collectors. One from the seniors
(E. R. N.)* and one from the juniors are “safe home”
now, and both such abundant entrances. How beautiful
: Nony must be now !
Yours, in most loving sympathy.
* E. R. Nicholas, Esq., long revered in Bewdley, who died
April 30, 1879, the day before little Nony.
234 Åſ BMORIAES OF F. R. H.
(To the same.)
w May 20.
. . . On further consideration and prayer, I see
that I cannot write Nony's memoir, at least not unless
the autumn shapes itself quite differently from what God
is at present indicating. After Christmas, I may be free
to decide on fresh work, and then I might try and do my
best. But I think you would not like to postpone the
memoir so long. . . . *
EXTRACTS FROM LAST LETTERS.
May 17, 1879.
DEAR MR. SNEPP,-
I cannot forbear just a line of affectionate sympathy
in reply to your note. And I do so rejoice with you in
the brighter parts of it.
I begin my Irish campaign, please God, on June 4th;
I stay first with the good Bishop of Cashel. Really a
wonderful little Temperance work here; all the rising
generation have joined the pledge except about twelve,
and now the men want to speak to me, and I am to
meet them to-night at the corner of the village (open air,
having no place else) with my pledge book. I have got
118 pledged, and each with prayer over it, and personal
talk about better things. In haste, etc., etc.
(To Mrs. Charles Bullock.)
. . . I do not want to work out a text this morn-
ing because I want to give the same time to working a
few, in the chapter for to-day, with the Baroness. But I
choose for next Sunday (May 18) 1 Kings v. 17: “The
Aïng” “commanded” “great stones,” “costly stones,”
“hewed stones,” “foundation of the house.” Those six
points will bear a lot of referencing; the point that
struck me being that all these great, costly, and hewed
* This memoir of her little friend is now published by Messrs.
Nisbet & Co., “The Memorials of Little Nony.”
&
*
* Sizºº) A P ºf ORAW/AWG CAE UAfES.” 235
stones were to be laid out of sight, yet making the strong
and needed foundation for a beautiful superstructure.
Do you see my thought?
This letter leads to the remark that for many months
my dear sister had selected texts on some verse in the
Christian Progress chapter for Sunday mornings. She
sent them on postcards to her friend Mrs. Bullock on the
previous Fridays, calling them “Sunday Morning Crumbs.”
We give only two others, for her friend has published them
with the title of “My Bible Study.”
Zech. vi. 11 : “Make crowns, and set them on the
head of Joshua the high priest.” Rev. xix, 12: “Many
crowns.” Is it not our privilege to have something to
do with preparing the crowns, and the jewels in them P
You see it is “make,” not merely “take.” Meanwhile
“we see” Him already “crowned with glory and honour”
(Heb. ii. 9). Outsiders don’t see it at all, and many of
us don't “see” because we don't steadily “look.” I
suppose it is the coronation day of Jesus in our hearts
when we “take” all that is most precious to us, typified
by the silver and gold, and “make crowns” with it for
Him in the double aspect of High Priest, i.e., Atoner
and Mediator, and Joshua our accepted and recognised
“Leader and Commander.”
May 23, 1879.
For May 25: 1 Kings xii. 24, “This thing is from
Me” (railway to ver, 15). If anything wasn't from the
Lord, one would have thought Rehoboam’s infatuation
was that thing ! So, it seems a lesson of acquiescence
in those most difficult things to acquiesce in, i.e., what
seem to arise from man's (or lad's) foolishness and trying-
ness. See 2 Cor. v. 18, “all things;” and 2 Cor. iv. 15.
Compare Gen. xlv. 8, and l. 20. . . . So thankful
for the good news in your note, as to both your sister and
your friend. Thanks for your dear husband's. Very
kind to register it !
CHA P T E R XV,
THE LAST WEEK.
The donkey-boy — My Temperance regiment — Work on the
village bank — Sailor friends—Helga's pictures—“God’s will
delicious” — Good Mary and kind nurse — “How good and
kind to come !” — The last Sunday — The last hymns —
Last messages — “Do speak bright words for Jesus” — The
last song at the Golden Gate — With the King – Astley
Churchyard.
Y dear sister Frances had promised to meet some
men and boys on the village bank on May 21st.
Though the day was very damp, she went, taking her Bible
and her Temperance book with her. While standing a
long time on this cold spot, heavy clouds came up from
the Channel, and she returned, wet and chilly with the
rain and mist; even then some were waiting for her to
speak to them.
May 22nd, being Ascension day, she wished to go to
church with our friend, but looked so poorly that I urged
her to come for the Communion only. She was very
tired, and took a donkey home. As she passed through
our village of Newton, quite a procession gathered round
her, her regiment of boys eagerly listening. Her donkey
boy, Fred Rosser, remembers that Miss Frances told
him “I had better leave the devil's side and get on the
safe side; that Jesus Christ's was the winning side; that
He loved us and was calling us, and wouldn't I choose
Him for my Captain P” Arriving at home, Frances ran
in for her book, and on the saddle Fred signed the
pledge. A young sailor, W. Llewellyn, was going to
sea the next day, Frances was anxious to speak to him,
THE LAST WEEK. 237
and in the evening went to the cottage. He signed the
book and heard one of her closing messages;* and this
was the last time her feet were
“Swift and beautiful for Thee.”
That evening she spoke to several; her intense earnest-
ness, her pleading words in the kitchen, are not forgotten.
To our worthy landlord, his wife and boys, she spoke
loving words. David and Johnnie Tucker will not forget
how often she had them in her study.
May 23rd. The chilliness increased; and though she
was in her study as usual, I requested the doctor to see
my dear sister, and desired him to come again. The
Temperance meeting was to be held in the evening, and
my sister arranged 150 large Temperance cards, then to
be given. Very cheerfully she gave up the wish to go,
saying (so like her /) “You will do all so much better than
I can ; will you give them two messages from me: to
those who have signed, ‘Behold God Himself is .
our Captain’ (2 Chron. xiii. 12); to those who have not
signed, ‘Come thou with us, and we will do thee good'
(Num. x. 29).” Our Vicar and Mr. Bishop, from Swan-
sea, were to be present; and to them she sent her good
wishes and request for bright short addresses. While we
were at the meeting, she was stitching strong paper tract-
bags for sailors at sea, till she felt ill and Mary assisted
her into her room. A feverish night ensued.
Saturday, 24th. Our friend, the Baroness, left us;
but she was not uneasy about Frances. In the afternoon
my sister asked me to rearrange her pictures near her
bed. “Put Mary Fay's text next to me, “Jesus Christ,
* His last letter, from Brazil, states that he has faithfully kept
the pledge.
238 MEMORIA LS OF F. R. H.
the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever;' above that,
‘Sunrise from the Bel Alp,' and “The Glacier of La
Tour.’” I read to her the text painted by Helga, on the
rock: “I saw a sea of glass, clear as crystal.” Frances
said, “Strangely sweet ! tell Helga her pictures take my
thoughts away from the pain,_up there.” Then Frances
asked me to place “my own text,” “the blood of Jesus
Christ, His Son, cleanseth from all sin;” and beyond it
Emily Coombe's illumination, “I reckon that the suffer-
ings,” etc.
The following are her last notes, in pencil:
(To Miss E. Titlerton.)
May 23, 1879.
DEAREST EMILY,- -
I am laid up again with a return of these feverish
attacks, which the doctor says are really from debility;
so must only send love, and assure you that whatever is
the reason of no answer, it can’t possibly be that Mrs. P.
is “offended "-that's not the last possibility, but an
impossibility It may be that she does not see her way
and is in a fix what to say ; this is highly probable, as
the Mildmay institutions are, financially, at a low ebb,
and of course she must throw all available strength
into this. I have got the whole rising generation of the
village to sign the pledge (all between eight and sixteen),
except two boys who won't sign, three who broke, and
one girl “going to sign l’” Also about fifty grown-ups.
My little lads are splendid: such hearty enthusiasm
about it ! Temperance meeting to-night, at which I was
popularly supposed to be going to speak but I'have to
entrust it all to others under God. I dare not let the
fact transpire that I can't go. They are such affectionate
people, these poor Welsh.
If I am able to go to Ireland (June 4), I will explain
to Mr. Fitzpatrick about pence cards for you and the
Bruey Branch. *
TATE LAST WEEK. 239
THE MUMBLEs, May 24.
DEAR MR, WATSON,+
I am in bed again with another of these tryingly fre-
quent feverish attacks, and am writing on the back of
your own letter, not having other paper within reach !
The fact is, I have knocked myself up with this Tem-
perance work; but having got the whole rising generation
of the village into my Temperance regiment, except
four naughty little black sheep, seems to me quite worth
being knocked up for
I am sorry I demurred to Dr. B.'s book appearing in
my special livery; it was rather small of me, and I feel
small accordingly. I forgot to say that the subject is
one of my unfinished “invalid book” papers, but I don't
think I need sacrifice it, need I? I could put a foot-
note, something of this sort—“For fuller and far better
thoughts on this passage, my readers are referred to the
‘Brook Besor,’ by Andrew A. Bonar, D.D.,” etc.
I have had such a kind letter from Dr. Macduff, send-
ing me “Palms of Elim.” I like it best of his, since
the “Faithful Promiser.”
Maria says I must not write any more.
Yours ever,
F. R. H.
Of Sunday I have kept no account.
May 26th. She could not attend to her letters, but
corrected the proof of “Morning Stars,” on the text “I
am the bright and morning Star;” and then the pen so
long used in the service of her King was laid down. She
was not suffering very much, lying quietly in bed, her pet
kittens Trot and Dot on her duvet. She rather astonished
her doctor by saying, “Do you think I have a chance of
going?” He told her that she was not seriously ill; and
asked if she really liked lying there, and in pain.
Frances. “Yes, I do; it is as if an errand-boy were
told to take a message, and afterwards the master bids
him not to go. I was going to Ireland next week, hoping
24:0 MEMORIAA.S OF F. R. H.
£,
to write for the Irish Society, but God has upset all my
plans, and it's all right.”
The last passage she looked at in her Bible was the
Christian Progress chapter for May 28th (Rev. ii. 1-10).
She asked Mary to read it for her, dwelling on “Be thou
faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life,”
bidding her turn to the reference in James i. 12.
(It is remarkable that the same promise of “the crown
of life” was the last passage our dear father ever read.)
May 29th. Fever and internal inflammation rapidly
came on, and all the symptoms and agony of peritonitis.
God seemed to permit severest suffering, and all remedies
failed. But her peace and joy shone through it all, while
her patieńce and unselfish consideration for others were
most striking, arranging that all who nursed her should
rest also. When we were distressed for her, she whispered,
“It’s home the faster ſ” She told Mary she was quite
sure now she should never go to Ireland, adding, “God’s
will is delictous ; He makes no mistakes.” Our good
Mary was a great comfort at all times.
May 30th. She was speaking of justification by faith:
“Not for our own works or deservings; oh, what vanity
it seems now to rest on our own obedience for salvation,
any merit of our own takes away the glory of the atoning
blood. “Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from
our sins in His own blood,” that’s it.”
M. “Have you any fear?”
F. “Why should I? Jesus said “It is finished,' and
what was His precious blood shed for P I trust that.”
Another time : “I am sure “I am not worthy to be
called His son,’ or His servant, but Jesus covers all; I
am unworthy, but in Him complete.”
The last letter she could listen to was from my
brother Frank's twin sons, and her message was: “Thank
THE ZAS 7" WEA, K. 24I
Willie for that nice text, “Sorrow may endure for a night,
but joy cometh in the morning;' and I do hope that
Willie and Ethelbert will be ambassadors for Christ;
even if they are not clergymen, may they win souls.”
To her sister Ellen: “I have not strength to send
messages to yours. I should have liked my death to be
like Samson's, doing more for God’s glory than by my
life; but He wills it otherwise.”
Ellen. “St. Paul said “The will of the Lord be done,’
and “let Christ be magnified, whether by my life or by
my death.’”
I think it was then my beloved sister whispered: “Let
my own text, “the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son,
cleanseth us from all sin’ be on my tomb ; all the verse,
if there is room.”
I must mention the skilful and tender care of the
nurse, Sarah Carveley (from the Derby Institute). A year
before, when in perfect health, Frances had playfully said,
“You must come and nurse me.”
The constant sickness was very distressing, and nothing
alleviated the agonizing pain; but my sister's patient
endurance was most lovely, trying to comfort us, and
thanking us so sweetly for all we did.
Another time she said: “Marie dear, God is dealing dif.
ferently with me in this illness; I don't know what He means
by it; no new thoughts for books or poems come now.”
Then, “Will you ask the Lord Jesus it may not be
long before He speaks to me Himself some little love
token P” I knelt and asked that He would speak “peace”
to her, even as He did to His disciples.
F. “I have peace, but it's Himself I am longing for.”
M. “The little boats on the stormy sea had not to row
back to Jesus; He drew nigh to them, and said, ‘It is I,
be not afraid.’”
Saturday afternoon she was very ill and feverish, saying,
Q
242 AMEMORAAAZS OF F. R. R.
“I know now what it means, “my tongue cleaveth to my
gums.’” When fanning her she said, “Marie, you have
made this last year of my life the brightest.”
M. “Do you at all regret coming here?”
F. “I should think not; the pleasantest time I ever
had, delicious /*
Whit Sunday she felt better and was able to talk a
little to her brother and sisters, saying: “How good and
kind to come ! Frank, do you remember when we knelt
together at dear papa's dying bed, what you said to me?
It so comforted me. Ever since I trusted Jesus alto-
gether, I have been so happy. I cannot tell how lovely,
how precious, He is to me.”
Her doctors were most watchful, and Frances expressed
her confidence in them and declined further advice. She
asked them, “What is the element of danger?”
“You are seriously ill, and the inflammation is in-
creasing.”
A. “I thought so, but if I am going it is too good to
be true !”
In the early dawn of Whit Monday Frances said to
me: “'Spite of the breakers, Marie, I am so happy;
God's promises are so true. Not a fear.”
About 8 a.m. we thought she was departing, and asked
for her brother. He knelt by her, inquiring if he should
pray. “Yes; let it be a sacramental service.” She
softly but emphatically joined in the words, “Therefore
with angels,” etc. Reverently, she asked her brother to
say the (administration) words “once for all.”
After some peaceful rest, she whispered: “Frank dear,
it is not the performance of the rite, no safety in that ;
but it is obedience to His command and as a remem-
brance of His dying love;” to which he assented.
When one of her doctors was leaving he said, “Good-
bye, I shall not see you again.”
THE LAST WAEAZA. 243
F. “Then do you really think I am going?”
A7. “Yes.” O
F. “To-day?”
Dr. “Probably.”
F. “Beautiful, too good to be true !”
Soon after she looked up smiling. “Splendid to be
so near the gates of heaven l’’ (Again and again we
heard this, and “So beautiful to go l’ through the last
hours.)
To Frank: “Will you sing ‘Jerusalem, my happy
home,' to papa's tune ‘St. Chrysostom,” and play it on
my harp-piano. Sing from the copy that has
“Jesus my Saviour dwells therein,
In glorious majesty; Q
And Him through every stormy scene
I onward press to see l’
Oh, it is the Lord Jesus that is so dear to me, I can't tell
how precious ! how much He has been to me!”
Afterwards she asked for “How sweet the name of
Jesus sounds,” to the same tune.
The Vicar of Swansea came for a few minutes. He
said: “You have talked and written a great deal about
the King ; and you will soon see Him in His beauty. Is
Jesus with you now?” -
F. “Of course / It's splendid I thought He would
have left me here a long while ; but He is so good to take
me now. Give my love to dear Mrs. Morgan, and tell all
the Association (Y. W. C. A.) that what she and I have told
them is all right, God's promises are all true, and the
Lord Jesus is a good big foundation to rest upon. Ask
Mr. A to speak plainly about Jesus. I want all
young clergymen to be faithful ambassadors, and win
souls. Tell Mr. W- I can never thank him enough
* No. 53, “Havergal's Psalmody,”
244 AMEMORIAA.S OF F. R. F.
<n
for his help. Oh, I want all of you to speak bright,
BRIGHT words about Jesus, oh, do, do / It is all perfect
peace, I am only waiting for Jesus to take me in.”
Soon after her friend Mrs. Morgan came, and Frances
whispered: “There is no bottom to God's mercy and love;
all His promises are true, not one thing hath failed.”
In the afternoon, she asked us if it was wrong to groan
when in such pain. We told her how very, very patient
she had been ; that even her doctors had noticed it, and
her calmness.
F. “Oh, I am so glad you tell me this, I did want to
glorify Him, every step of the way, and especially in this
suffering. I hope none of you will have five minutes of
this pain.” -
Her brother sang “Christ for me;” and Ellen repeated,
“On Christ the solid rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;”
adding “I want to rejoice more for you, dear Frances;
you are on the Rock, and we want no other.”
F. “It is the one God has laid for us.”
Many times she whispered: “Come, Lord Jesus, come
and fetch me; oh, run, run.” Then, “Do you think I
shall be disappointed P”
“No, dearest, we are quite sure you are going to Him
now.” -
F., smiling, “I think Jesus will be glad.”
On Tuesday, June 3rd, Whit Tuesday, at dawn the
change came. One of her sisters repeated, “When thou
passest through the waters I will be with thee.”
F. “He must keep His word.”
Isaiah xli. Io was repeated incorrectly; she whispered
it correctly for us. After a short doze, she exclaimed:
“I am lost in amazement There hath not failed one
word of all His good promise !” -
Zºº L.A.ST. WEEK. 245
She just spoke of Miss Leigh's work in Paris, and
her friend Margaret C, there, adding “Strange I think of
it now.”
Whispering the names of many dear ones, she added
“I love them all.” Then, as it were with her last look
on them from the opening golden gates, she said yearn-
ingly “I want all to come to me in heaven; oh, don't,
don't disappoint me, tell them ‘Trust Jesus.’”
Ellen repeated: (altering the word “canst”)
“Jesus, I will trust Thee,
Trust Thee with my soul;
Guilty, lost, and helpless,
Thou hast made me whole :
There is none in Heaven,
Or on earth, like Thee;
Thou hast died for sinners,
Therefore, Lord, for me,”
Clearly, though faintly, she sang the whole verse, to her
own tune “Hermas.”
Then came a terrible rush of convulsive sickness. It
ceased ; the nurse gently assisting her, she nestled down
in the pillows, folded her hands on her breast, saying,
“There, now it is all over ! Blessed rest l”
And now she looked up steadfastly as if she saw the
Lord; and, surely, nothing less heavenly could have
reflected such a glorious radiance upon her face. For
ten minutes, we watched that almost visible meeting with
her King, and her countenance was so glad, as if she were
already talking to Him. Then she tried to sing; but after
one sweet high note, “HE —,” her voice failed; and,
as her brother commended her soul into her Redeemer's
§
hand, she passed away. Our precious sister was gone,— ”
satisfied,—glorified,—within the palace of her King !
246 MEMORA/S OF F. R. H.
tº “So she took . . . . *
The one grand step, beyond the stars of God,
Into the splendour, shadowless and broad,
Into the everlasting joy and light.
The zenith of the earthly life was come.
What then? Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard
Wait till thou too hast fought the noble strife,
And won, through Jesus Christ, the crown of life
Then shalt thou know the glory of the word,
Then as the stars for ever, ever shine,
Beneath the King's own smile, perpetual zenith thine !”
On Monday, June 9th, at 6 a.m., the villagers and
others assembled on the lawn while her flower-crowned
coffin passed out. The Rev. S. C. Morgan, vicar of Swan-
sea, addressed them after we had left for Worcestershire
Many relatives and friends joined us at Stourport,
following our beloved sister to her father's tomb in Astley
churchyard. A golden star, of Banksia roses, a poet's
wreath of laurel and bay, and many white crowns, were
laid upon her. There, within sight of her birth-room in
the rectory, and under the branches of the fir-tree her
father planted (and, away beyond, the hills and valleys
of her dear childhood's haunts encircling us), we laid our
precious sister in sure and certain hope of her “resurrec.
tion to eternal life.”
The following is the inscription, on the north side of
our dear father's tomb, in Astley churchyard :
FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL,
YoUNGEST DAUGHTER OF THE REv. W. H. HAverGAL,
AND JANE HIS WIFE.
Born at Astley Rectory, 14th December, 1836. Died at Caswell
Bay, Swansea, 3rd June, 1879. Aged 42.
By her writings in prose and verse, she, “being dead, yet speaketh."
* The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”
1 JoHN i. 7.
7.E.A. LAST WEEK. 247
There had been heavy storms all day, even as she had
passed through many (and our own storm-grief had been
bitter and desolating). But the Sunshine came, just as
the service was ending, and the birds suddenly sang
sweetly all around. Very hushing was the thought that
our dear sister's life had been the prelude of the ever-
lasting song; and that she was then looking upon the
face of her King, and praising Him “evermore, and
evermore.”
“Worthy of all adoration
Is the Lamb that once was slain,”
Cry, in raptured exultation,
His redeemed from every nation ;
Angel myriads join the strain ;
Sounding from their sinless strings
Glory to the King of kings;
Harping, with their harps of gold,
Praise which never can be told.
Hallelujahs full and swelling
Rise around His throne of might. "
All our highest laud excelling,
Holy and Immortal, dwelling
In the unapproachéd light,
He is worthy to receive
All that heaven and earth can give,
Blessing, honour, glory, might,
All are His by glorious right.
As the sound of many waters
Let the full Amen arise !
HALLELUJAH ! Ceasing never,
Sounding through the great For Ever, e
Linking all its harmonies;
Through eternities of bliss,
Lord, our rapture shall be this ;
And our endless life shall be
One AMEN of praise to THEE 1 °
(F. R. H.)
“Unto Him that loved us and washed us from our
sins in His own blood, and hath made us kings and
priests unto God and His Father; to HIM be glory and
dominion, for ever and ever. Amen.”
Q)
JESUS, I WILL TRUST THEE.
*
Zune, HERMAs; No. 1 os, in “Havergal's Psalmody.”
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soul;
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Guilt - y, lost, and help - less, Thou canst make me whole.
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There is none in hea - ven or on earth like Thee:
there-fore, Lord, for me.
Thou hast died for sin - ners;
Jesus, I can trust. Thee, trust Thy written word,
Though Thy voice of pity I have never heard.
When Thy Spirit teacheth, to my taste how sweet-
Jesus, I may trust Thee, name of matchless worth
Spoken by the angel at Thy wondrous birth ;
Written, and for ever, on Thy cross of shame,
Sinners read and worship, trusting in that Name.
Jesus, I must trust Thee, pondering Thy ways,
Full of love and mercy, all Thy earthly days :
Sinners gathered round Thee, lepers sought Thy
face ;
None too vile or loathsome for a Saviour's grace.
Only may I hearken, sitting at Thy feet.
Jesus, I do trust. Thee, trust without a doubt:
“Whosoever cometh, Thou wilt not cast out.”
Faithful is Thy promise, precious is Thy blood–
These my soul's salvation, Thou my Saviour God.
MARY JANE WALKER, 1864.


A PP E N D I X.
—?!?—
dº
**
A “LINE LEFT OUT.”
SINCE compiling the Memorials of my dear sister, I
have discovered this little note among our dear father's
papers. It is “a line left out,” showing the generosity
of my sister's character, her delight in giving away most
unselfishly, long before the true impulse of “full and
glad surrender” balanced all her gifts.
Frances had just received her first cheque from
Messrs. Strahan for contributions to Good Words, and
she writes to her mother in 1863 :
The cheque is so much larger than I expected, 4 Io, 17s. 6d.
Now will you please give AIO of this to my precious papa for any
thing he would like to employ it on ; either keep it for church
alterations, or if any more immediate and pressing object, I would
rather he used it for that ; I should be so delighted to be able for
once to further any little object which he may desire. I should be
glad if you would send Ios. to J. H. E. for the Scripture Readers'
collection, and the 7s. 6d, to keep for any similar emergency.
We add the following, found among Frances' papers:
My dear little Fan can hardly think how much her poor papa
loves her, thinks about her, and prays for her. Yes, he does.
Thank you, dear child, for remembering me; I will keep all your
love, but not the cheque. Our God send you His sweetest and
choicest blessings.
W. H. H
25o AAFENDIX.
NOTE TO PAGE I28.
THE melancholy story of the running down of a vessel a few years
ago, in Dunedin harbour, shortly after her arrival from England,
will be remembered, The family alluded to (a clergyman, his wife,
young children—the youngest an infant, and faithful servant) were
the only persons remaining on board, and were drowned. The crew
were all on deck, and just escaped. F. R. H. and her friend were
speaking of death and what constituted its sadness to the Christian;
and they agreed there were only two sad ingredients, previous sick-
ness and pain, and separation. Thus, in this singular instance of a
whole family's entrance together into glory, for them it was indeed
“nice l’’
DEATH AND LIFE.
IT was a day of Death,
But not a day of tears;–
A day of wondrous change,
But not of hopes and fears.
No parting look was given,
No farewell word was spoken,
As the link that kept eight souls from heaven
By a single touch was broken.
No heart-ache and no pain,-
No weary breath, no sighing, —
No speechless look of love,
No death-watch and no dying:
No eyes were softly closed,
No hands were gently folded,
No living face hung in anguish wild
O'er the statue Death had moulded.
It was a day of Life,
A day of wondrous bliss;—
What entrance through the gates of pearl
Could ever equal this 1
How rapturous then the greeting,
What looks of love outspoken,
As the union of those souls in heaven
Was sealed, ne'er to be broken
M. Cox, 1867
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