As a minister she was especially gifted in exhortation and prayer, but she knew the Bible, and she knew experimentally the meaning of its promises and commandments. Her use of language was remarkable: every thought she wished to express was clothed richly, every truth was made clear to her hearers, and no words were wasted. God gave her a voice, not like Milton's, "whose sound was like the sea," but soft as the wind in the trees and strong to reach the farthest seats. There was a music in it which charmed, and a reserved power and volume which she could use when the occasion called for it.
The good people in the south of France still say, "She seemed to us like an angel;" which shows how her earnest tones and kind deeds impressed these simple-hearted people, who saw too few that loved to feed the sheep and the lambs. Her active work in the ministry began with her first visit to the provinces. Between that time and her death she went as a herald through her own land; to Liberia, to England, Ireland, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Switzerland, and France; to Scotland, Greece, Egypt, and the Holy Land. Few women, if any, before her had been called to so many and so widely separated peoples. By every race and nation she was kindly received, and she was enabled to speak to them boldly and with such power that the lives of those who heard her were noticeably changed. Standing often where woman never stood before to speak, she lovingly urged the multitudes of ignorant, unsaved hearers to come to the Lord for teaching and salvation. The effect of her live words on those who had heard only formal preaching can hardly be described. When in her most earnest attitude, she was calm in her pleading, avoiding all that was sensational and speaking simply to reach the heart. There has never been a more striking instance of reliance on the divine Voice in the soul. There were numerous occasions in her life when not only all her friends, but skilful physicians, concurred in advising her to rest her exhausted body when she felt work immediately before her. In every case she replied, "I have this work to do now; I cannot take another course;" and in no case was she mistaken. Once at least she went from her own home to the train on a couch, but the results of the visit could leave no one in doubt from whence came the command for her to go forth.
Like Madame Guyon, it was her unceasing desire to bring her individual will into full harmony with the will of God, and like her she sought earnestly to distinguish minutely between her own impulses and the promptings of the Spirit of God; not unlike Madame Guyon, she knew her place to be where she could work actively among men for their enlightenment. No small part of her work was with soldiers and prisoners. Following the example of Elizabeth Fry, she went where sin had made the deepest stains. Not only did the inmates of wards and cells become gentler as she talked to them, but they regarded this world and the next from a different standpoint when she had finished speaking to them of the one hope which she had come to bring them.
As she understood the New Testament, and as she interpreted the whisperings within her, it seemed clear that the disciple of Christ must devote himself or herself to uplifting a larger or smaller portion of the human race, the radius of influence depending on the number of talents received—that each servant's work might be different, but each one must get into an attitude to find his task, and then all must work to produce fruit for the same harvest-home.
The following is quoted from Harriet Beecher Stowe in her Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands:
"C. had been with Joseph Sturge during the afternoon to a meeting of the Friends, and heard a discourse from Sybil Jones, one of the most popular of their female preachers. Sybil Jones is a native of Brunswick, Maine. She and her husband, being both preachers, have travelled extensively in the prosecution of various philanthropic and religious enterprises.
"In the evening Joseph Sturge said that she had expressed a desire to see me. Accordingly, I went with him to call upon her, and found her in the family of two aged Friends, surrounded by a circle of the same denomination. She is a woman of great delicacy of appearance, betokening very frail health. I am told that she is most of her time in a state of extreme suffering from neuralgic complaints. There was a mingled expression of enthusiasm and tenderness in her face which was very interesting. She had had, according to the language of her sect, a concern on her mind for me. To my mind there is something peculiarly interesting about the primitive simplicity and frankness with which the members of this body express themselves. She desired to caution me against the temptations of too much flattery and applause, and against the worldliness which might beset me in London. Her manner of addressing me was like that of one who is commissioned with a message which must be spoken with plainness and sincerity. After this the whole circle knelt, and she offered prayer. I was somewhat painfully impressed with her evident fragility of body compared with the enthusiastic workings of her mind. In the course of the conversation she inquired if I was going to Ireland. I told her yes, that was my intention. She begged that I would visit the western coast, adding, with great feeling, 'It was the miseries which I saw there which have brought my health to the state it is in.'
"She had travelled extensively in the Southern States, and had in private conversation been able very fully to bear witness against slavery, and had never been heard with unkindness. The whole incident afforded me matter for reflection. The calling of women to distinct religious vocations, it appears to me, was a part of primitive Christianity; has been one of the most efficient elements of power in the Romish Church; obtained among the Methodists in England; and has in all these cases been productive of great good. The deaconesses whom the apostle mentioned with honor in his epistle, Madame Guyon in the Romish Church, Mrs. Fletcher, Elizabeth Fry, are instances to show how much may be done for mankind by women who feel themselves impelled to a special religious vocation. The example of the Quakers is a sufficient proof that acting upon this idea does not produce discord and domestic disorder. No people are more remarkable for quietness and propriety of deportment and for household order and domestic excellence. By the admission of this liberty the world is now and then gifted with a woman like Elizabeth Fry, while the family state loses none of its security and sacredness. No one in our day charges the ladies of the Quaker sect with boldness or indecorum, and they have demonstrated that even public teaching, when performed under the influence of an overpowering devotional spirit, does not interfere with feminine propriety and modesty. The fact is, that the number of women to whom this vocation is given will always be comparatively few: they are, and generally will be, the exceptions, and the majority of the religious world, ancient and modern, has decided that these exceptions are to be treated with reverence."
John G. Whittier writes in his poem, the "Meeting:"
"Welcome the silence all unbroken,