"Yes, that's jest the way we do know it, Mis' Kinney, by heart," said the affectionate Angy, "an' that's jest the reason we want it so often. I never told ye what George Thayer said the last time you read it to us, did I?" "No, Angy," said Draxy. "Well, he was singing in the choir that day, 'n place o' his brother, who was sick; 'n' he jumped up on one o' the seats 'n' swung his hat, jest 's you was goin' down the aisle, 'n' we all ketched hold on him to pull him down, 'n' try to hush him; for you can't never tell what George Thayer'll do when his blood's up, 'n' we was afraid he was agoin' to holler right out, 's ef he was in the town-'us; but sez he, in a real low, trembly kind o' voice, "'Ye needn't be afraid, I ain't agoin' to whoop;--taint that way I feel,--but I had to do suthin' or I should bust': 'n' there was reel tears in his eyes--George Thayer's eyes, Mis' Kinney! Then he jumped down, 'n' sez he, 'I'll tell ye what that sermon's like: it's jest like one great rainbow all round ye, and before 'n' behind 'n' everywheres, 'n' the end on't reaches way to the Throne; it jest dazzles my eyes, that's what it does.'" This sermon had concluded with the following hymn, which Draxy had written when Reuby was only a few weeks old:-- The Love of God. Like a cradle rocking, rocking, Silent, peaceful, to and fro, Like a mother's sweet looks dropping On the little face below, Hangs the green earth, swinging, turning, Jarless, noiseless, safe and slow; Falls the light of God's face bending Down and watching us below. And as feeble babes that suffer, Toss and cry, and will not rest, Are the ones the tender mother Holds the closest, loves the best, So when we are weak and wretched, By our sins weighed down, distressed, Then it is that God's great patience Holds us closest, loves us best. O great Heart of God! whose loving Cannot hindered be nor crossed; Will not weary, will not even In our death itself be lost-- Love divine! of such great loving, Only mothers know the cost-- Cost of love, which all love passing, Gave a Son to save the lost. There is little more to tell of Draxy's ministry. It closed as suddenly as it had begun. It was just five years after the Elder's death that she found herself, one Sunday morning, feeling singularly feeble and lifeless. She was bewildered at the sensation, for in her apparent health she had never felt it before. She could hardly walk, could hardly stand. She felt also a strange apathy which prevented her being alarmed. "It is nothing," she said; "I dare say most women are so all the time; I don't feel in the least ill;" and she insisted upon it that no one should remain at home with her. It was a communion Sunday and Elder Williams was to preach.