“The Lord’s work needs hands always,” she wrote. “I took up a book the other day when I was feeling rather listless and inclined to remain at home, and I had not read two verses of a hymn upon which my eyes fell before I laid it down, put on my bonnet and went out to visit my scholars. Isn’t there some work for you, Tom, among all those people? Suppose you remember the two verses I read, and if they affect you as they did me, it will not be long before the Lord’s work comes ready at your hands.”
“Two hands across the breast,
And work is done;
Two pale feet crossed in rest
The race is run;
Two eyes with coin-weights shut,
And all tears cease;
Two lips where grief is mute,
And wrath at peace:
So pray we ofttimes, mourning our lot;