She was slowly drifting out from the shores of time, and no hand was
strong enough to hold her back. A sweet patience smoothed away the
lines of suffering which months of sorrow and uncertainty had cut in
her brow, the grieving curves of her pale lips were softened by
tender submission, the far-off look was still in her eyes, but it
was no longer fixed and dreary. Her thought went away from herself
to others. The heavenly sphere into which she had come through
submission to her Father's will and a humble looking to God for help
and comfort began to pervade her soul and fill it with that divine
self-forgetting which all who come spiritually near to him must
feel.
She could not go out and do strong and widely-felt work for
humanity, could not lift up the fallen, nor help the weak, nor visit
the sick, nor comfort the prisoner, though often her heart yearned
to help and strengthen the suffering and the distressed. But few if
any could come into the chamber where most of her days were spent
without feeling the sphere of her higher and purer life, and many,
influenced thereby, went out to do the good works to which she so
longed to put her hands. So from the narrow bounds of her chamber
went daily a power for good, and many who knew her not were helped
or comforted or lifted into purer and better lives because of her
patient submission to God and reception of his love into her soul.
It is not surprising that one thought took a deep hold upon her.
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