And if the church was cradled in the arms of Mary, have not the daughters of Mary been singing to the child Jesus all along the ages? It was Charlotte Elliott who wrote, "Just as I am without one plea," and Mrs. Adams who gave the church that immortal hymn, "Nearer, my God, to Thee." "Fade, fade, each earthly joy," "I need Thee every hour," "Lord, I hear of showers of blessing," "I think when I read that sweet story of old," "I love to tell the story," and "How blest the righteous when he dies"—all these were written by women. What sweet singers chant cradle hymns to the child Jesus—Felicia D. Hemans, Joanna Baillie, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Eliza Cook, Mrs. Baxter, Mrs. Codver, Mrs. Bonar, Mrs. Barbauld and the Cary sisters. If wise men came from the East with gold, frankincense and myrrh for the infant Redeemer, wise women are coming every day from all parts of the earth with gifts of heavenly song. The success of every church depends in large measure upon the consecration of its women. I never knew a church in which there were not more women than men; they constitute the majority in every religious meeting; and it would seem as if fifty women go to heaven for every man who makes even a moderate effort to get there. It was the service of faithful and active women that saved Israel in the hour of national peril. "When the men of Israel," to employ the language of another, "bowed in helplessness before Pharaoh, two women spurned his edicts and refused his behests. A father made no effort to save the infant Moses, but a mother's care hid him while concealment was possible, and a sister watched over his preservation when exposed on the river's brink. To woman was intrusted the charge of providing for the perils and wants of the wilderness; and in the hour of triumph woman's voice was loudest in the acclaim of joy that ascended to heaven from an emancipated nation." The same womanly courage, patience, love, tact and wisdom must be the hope and strength of modern Israel. The men who have accomplished most owe much to woman's influence. From her counsel the hero derived his courage, and in her approving smile received his reward. The great poems of the world are, many of them, from her inspiration. Blanche of Lancaster lives in the antique English of Chaucer, Laura in the sonnets of Petrarch, and Beatrice in the Divina Commedia of Dante; and who can look upon the marbles of Michel Angelo and not behold the influence of Vittoria Colonna? In all literature there is not a nobler sonnet addressed by man to woman than this which Michel Angelo laid with bowed heart and reverent hand at the feet of Vittoria Colonna: