Truth, truth, truth, was still the war-cry of her soul; and there was an intensity in every word of her written or spoken pleadings on this subject which might well have revealed to a careful analyzer of them that they had sprung out of the depths of the profoundest experiences.

Her influence as a writer was very great.

As she grew older, she wrote less and less for the delight of the ear, more and more for the stirring of the heart.

To do a little towards making people glad, towards making them kind to one another, towards opening their eyes to the omnipresent beauty,--these were her ambitions.

"Oh, the tender, unutterable beauty of all created things!" were the opening lines of one of her sweetest songs; and it might have been said to be one of the watchwords of her life.
It took many years for her to reach this plane, to attain to the fulness of this close spiritual communion with things seen and unseen.