his servants--scientific men--all abroad through nature to gather facts
with which to illustrate the Bible."

Marion began to write again, but it was only in snatches here and
there; not that there was not that which she longed to catch, but she
could not write it--the sentences just poured forth; and how perfectly
aglow with light and beauty they were! This one sentence she presently
wrote:

"In the black ink of his power God wrote the Book of nature; in the red
ink of his love he wrote the Bible; and all this _power_ is to bring us
all to this _love_. Oh, to rest in arms like these! Are they not strong
enough?"

Suddenly Marion closed her book and slipped her pencil into her pocket;
she could not write. And although she thrilled through every nerve over
the majestic sentences that followed and was carried to a pitch of
enthusiasm almost beyond her control, when the jubilant thunder of
thousands of voices rang together in the matchless closing words,
"Blessing, and glory, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might,
be unto our God, forever and ever. Amen." She made no further attempt to
write; her heart was full; there rang in it this eager cry, "Oh, to rest
in arms like these!" Strong enough? Aye, indeed! Doubts were forever set
at rest. The Maker of all nature could be none other than God, and the
God of nature was the God of the Bible. It was as clear as the sunlight.
Reason was forever satisfied, but there lingered yet the hungering cry,
"Oh, to rest in arms like these!"

And Flossy said not a word to her of the resting place. Not because she
had not found it strong and safe; not because she did not long to have