'Now paint your picture,' says the Master; 'paint swiftly, with such skill as you can, not knowing how long is allotted for the task.' And so we weave, and so we paint, every one of us--every one of us." "What is your picture, Miss Fregelius?
Tell me, if you will." She laughed, and drew herself up.

"Mine, oh! it is large.

It is to reign like that star.

It is to labour forward from age to age at the great tasks that God shall set me; to return and bow before His throne crying, 'It is done.

Behold, is the work good ?' For the hour that they endure it is still to be with those whom I have loved on earth, although they cannot see me; to soothe their sorrows, to support their weakness, to lull their fears.