The sacred memories of the past may slumber for a while but they are often awakened under favorable conditions, as seen on this occasion, as reported in _The British Weekly_, when Canadian Railroad Men Sang In Memory of Mother A student of Manitoba University, Winnipeg, accepted camp service for the long vacation in connection with the building of the last transcontinental railroad in Canada. He became one of the men and soon made friends with them. After the midday meal on the first Sunday he asked “the boys” if they would “roll up” to the service he proposed to hold? The tent was crowded. He started the service by asking if any of them remembered their mother’s favorite hymn. He was answered at once by one who said his mother liked best “Rock of Ages, Cleft For Me.” So it was sung, and, like other “mothers’ favorites,” it was sung over and over again. The service continued till eleven o’clock and under that star-lit northern sky they left the tent for their bunks, resolving that the God of the old home should be their God. By many a bunk that night the prayer went to heaven: “Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.” The result was equally beneficial in another instance when John Callahan Heard Mother’s Hymn in a Mission He was long superintendent of Hadley Mission in New York City, and known as “the Bishop of the Bowery.” He said, “It was ‘Abide With Me’ that I heard in a mission, and that I had not heard since it was sung when I was six years old at my mother’s funeral, that brought me to my senses and made me realize that I was not traveling on the right road.” The same effect was produced at the front when fond memories made Voices Husky With Emotion The message of the Gospel took on a reality it had never worn before as the story of the Cross was recounted by the Salvationists to the American soldiers in France. The thunder of artillery was heard; and the flashing of signal lights, together with the hum of the airplanes, vivified the whole background of war. After an address on the God of their mothers a young woman began to sing: “I grieved my Lord from day to day, I scorned His love so full and free, And though I wandered far away, My mother’s prayers have followed me. I’m coming home, I’m coming home, To live my wasted life anew, For mother’s prayers have followed me, Have followed me the whole world through.” Many hearts echoed the words; and the voices of the men were husky with emotion when they tried to join in the closing hymn. A different testimony is given where one Wanted to Hear the Hymns That Mother Loved Best Countess Somers, the mother of Lady Henry Somerset, presented Frances E. Willard with a music-box. This may still be seen in Rest Cottage, Evanston, Illinois. The little guide-book, _Historic Rest Cottage_, says: