‘I so want you not to have that crushing fear, which, I may be wrong, but I think, you sometimes feel of God. He must be so sorry, if we don’t understand Him and feel like that.... “I fell at His feet as dead, and He laid His hand on me, saying, _Fear_ not.” Think of this and of the parting words, “Peace be unto you.”’ To the same:— ‘_July 1883._ ‘ ... You will have heard of our great loss, and yet I ought not to call it so,—in dear Mrs. Owen. It is good to have known her, and one feels what it is to live and work in the hearts of others, seeing such a life and death. I will tell you more of what she has taught [me] when you come.’ To the same:— ‘_July 1883._ ‘My dear child, I will certainly ask for both of you to come. Yes, it is a naughty letter. You must love not only with pity, but with a stretching forth to sympathise. What if we feel ourselves better than another, because the Spirit has stirred the once cold depths of our soul, and so there is some light. Is it not because there has been so little that souls near us have remained cold? Can we ever glance at their faults without shame in thinking we are responsible for so much? How we shall long to make them some amends, how gladly we shall bear any punishment, or even harshness, if we can through this show our yearning love, alleviate our self-reproval! We cannot feel we are better. Our Church service does at least try to keep us humble by our repeated confessions, especially at Holy Communion.’ To the same:— ‘So very glad you have had a happy time. God is good in giving us playgrounds as well as workrooms; we want both, and in both He shines on us, and is glad in our gladness as well as afflicted in our afflictions....’ To the same:— ‘_October 1885._