With their store of ointment sweet,
You have offered to the Master,
Humbly kneeling at his feet,
“And his gentle hands in blessing
Rest upon you day by day,
While the precious fragrance rises
Like a prayer to him alway.”
Florence sat in absolute stillness while he read, just catching her breath slightly at one of the lines. She looked very much like a mayflower herself as she sat there, her hands crossed in her lap, and her face upturned to the reader. When he had finished, she was silent for a moment. Then she asked, “Who wrote that, Mr. Wesley?”
