r family, her
husband to care for as he hasted away early to his work, and her
children to make ready for school. There were other household duties
which filled the poor, weak woman's hands, until her strength was
well-nigh utterly exhausted. And she had not gone through it all that
morning in a sweet, peaceful way. She had allowed herself to lose her
patience, and to grow fretful, vexed, and unhappy. She had spoken
quick, hasty, petulant words to her husband and her children. Her
heart had been in a fever of irritation and disquiet all the morning.

When the children were gone, and the pressing tasks were finished, and
the house was all quiet, the tired woman crept upstairs to her own
room. She was greatly discouraged. She felt that her morning had been
a most unsatisfactory one; that she had sadly failed in her duty; that
she had grieved her Master by her want of patience and gentleness, and
had hurt her children's lives by her fretfulness and her ill-tempered
words. Shutting her door, she took up her Bible and read the story of
the healing of the sick woman: "He touched her hand, and the fever left
her; and she arose and ministered unto them."

"Ah!" said she, "if I could have had that touch before I began my
morning's work, the fever would have left me, and I should have been
prepared to minister sweetly and peacefully to my family." She had
learned that she needed the touch of Christ to make her ready for
beautiful and gentle service.

In contrast with this story, and showing the blessed sweetness and holy
influence of a life that gets Christ's touch in the morning, there is
this account by Archdeacon Farrar of his mother: "My mother's habit
was, every day, immediately after breakfast, to withdraw for an hour to
her own room, and to spend that hour in reading the Bible, in
meditation, and in prayer. From that hour, as from a pure fountain,
she drew the strength and the sweetness which enabled her to fulfil all
her duties, and to remain unruffled by all the worries and pettinesses
which are so often the intolerable trial of narrow neighborhoods. As I
think of her life, and of all it had to bear, I see the absolute
triumph of Christian grace in the lovely ideal of a Christian lady. I
never saw her temper disturbed; I never heard her speak one word of
anger, or of calumny, or of idle gossip. I never observed in her any
sign of a single sentiment unbecoming to a soul which had drunk of the
river of the