The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1907-04-26
At His Feet.
BY MARY F NICHOLS.

Endeavor Society had benefited by a
good meeting.
The address had been bright, yet i'm
pressive, and when all rose to join in the
closing hymn, there was that conscious
sense of exaltation which is only exper-
fenced in an atmosphere that is rarifed
and hracing.
| Oh to be nothing. nothing!
| Only to lie at His feet.
| broken and emptied vessel
| For the Masters use made meet.
Such was the refrain sung by fifty clear
| young voices; but none were tuned with
deeper devotion and truer resignation
than the more mature voice of Miss
| Margaret Wilson. Miss Wilson was a
single lady of some forty summers, yet
none called her an old maid.
Was it because that open face, strong
brow and the quiet, tender eyes beneath
spoke of mother love for all lonely,
needy ones that crossed her path? This
was very probable, for in most minds
the term "old maids stands for acidula-
ton and narrowed interests; to associate
such failings with Margaret Wilson
would be impossible.
Now, as she Joined in singing those
solemn words-that prayer for nothing
ness which, to the human mind, is the
greatest abnegation-her quick, practical
mind searched itself Was she, indeed,
willing to be nothing for her Master?
Her heart prayed that this might be so.
"May it be joy to take the lowest place,
help me to give up my way to others in
all my church work; may it be the un-
seen trivial duty to Thyself that spend
my best energies upon. Give me an hum
BILE fear of leading places, help me to
sweep self aside; live in me, work through
my emptied hands
These were the searchings of the
woman's mind, and as these thoughts
| flashed past her. and again came the re-
frain, "Oh! to be nothing, nothing" her
eyes were caught by those of a young
girl sitting near, young girl fashiona-
bly, dressed, with carefully arranged hair,
and bright, laughter-lovingey eyes. "Pret-
ty little Dorothy; wonder whether she
means all she is singing? hope So"
Then Margaret quickly blamed herself
for an acknowledgements and concen-
trated her mind on the closing services.
y = y Sc +#**##
Itwas half an hour later and the Dung
people were cropping homeward through
streets filled with December fog.
Miss Wilson was alone, and as she
walked, her mind was filed with schemes
for the future of many good works. AS
she crossed the road, suddenly out of the
mist there appeared at her very elbow
the CLEAN of an acetylene lamp.
On her ear fell the sudden toot of
horn and voice shouting. She was con-
scious of moments horror, as she was
borne down by great silent tired motor
car; then merciful wave of blackness
enveloped her, and she lay unconscious
in the miry road.
1t was the owner of the car, the beads
of perspiration thick on his brow, who,
raising her, carried her with care into
the nearest shop. A crowd quickly
gathered at its door, and soon the news
went round that it was Miss Wilson who
lay there injured and insensible. There
were many growled menaces at the occu-
pants of the car, in spite of their con-
spicuous distress and anxiety; and there
were those who pressed into the shop in
spite Of rebuff, and were proud if they
succeeded in wiping splash of mud from
her clothing, or brushing a strayed lock
OF hair into its place. But very soon a
doctor arrived on the scene, brought
hastily by the chauffeur on the very car
which had wrought the damage Then
an ambulance arrived, and the sufferer
was conveyed to her home in the sub
urbs
Many followed, and hung around gate
and ratings. Those who had benefited
by Miss Wilson's kind heart and words
in their hour of need, those who had been
brought back from crooked paths by her
strong hand, and those who were simply
curious; they heard the bulletin at last:
Miss Wilson still alive, but suffering
from severe injuries"