home. And on a sudden, something in that chapter (it was
the third of Romans) said to the old lady, "You have lived eighty years
in the world, and never done a single thing for the love of God." The
conviction was tremendous in its depth and quality, and it lasted long.
But a very bright light followed, and shone with holy fulness through
what proved to be several remaining years of beautiful old age. She
rejoiced in her adorable Saviour with joy unspeakable, a joy meanwhile
perfectly sober and full of the good fruits of loving righteousness. She
died at last, singing, or rather musically murmuring, _Rock of
Ages_.[25] And my recollection, across seven-and-forty years, is of that
dear old lady of the past, sitting upright in her parlour, as my Mother
led me in to see her, and wearing a look upon her face which I can only
now describe as a remembered ray of light.

[25] My dear Father, many years ago, published a full narrative of Mrs
E.'s last days, in a little volume of pastoral recollections, _Pardon
and Peace_.

"_I love, I love my Master;
I will not go out free;
For He is my Redeemer,
He paid the price for me._

"_I would not leave His service,
It is so sweet and blest,
And in the weariest moments
He gives the truest rest._"

MISS F.R. HAVERGAL.

CHAPTER IX.

_THE CLERGYMAN AND THE PRAYER BOOK._

_Dear pages of ancestral prayer,
Illumined all with Scripture gold,
In you we seem the faith to share
Of saints and seers of old.

Whene'er in worship's blissful hour
The Pastor lends your heart a voice,
Let his own spirit feel your power,
And answer, and rejoice._

In the present chapter I deal a little with the spirit and work of the
Clergyman in his ministration of the ordered Services of the Church,
reserving the work of the Pulpit for later treatment.

THE PRAYER BOOK NOT PERFECT BUT INESTIMABLE.

Let me begin by a brief reminder of the greatness of the spiritual
treasure which we possess in the Book by which we minister. How shall I
speak of it as I would? "The Prayer Book isn't inspired, I know," said
an old coast-guardsman some years ago to a friend of mine, "but, sure
and certain, _'tis as bad as inspired_!" "I find the Liturgy," said
another veteran, Charles Simeon, "as superior to all modern compositions
as the work of a philosopher on any deep subject is to that of a
schoolboy who understands scarcely anything about it." "All that