On May 26, 1878, F. R. Havergal’s stepmother passed away.  This event broke up their Leamington home, and Frances and her sister spent some time in the quiet of the Mumbles near Swansea.  They then went to stay at a farmhouse in Herefordshire, where, among other forms of work for the Master, she, ever thoughtful of others, interpreted on her fingers to the man of the house, who was quite deaf, the sermons she heard.  It was here that she wrote her poem entitled Zenith.

The breaking up of the Leamington home she thought afforded a good opportunity of practically carrying out her dedication of her silver and gold to God’s service.  She had hoped to devote herself to missionary work, but her health prevented this being realised, so she sent off all her ornaments, including a valuable jewel-case, to the Church Missionary House in London, to be disposed of for missionary work.  “I retain,” she says, “only a brooch or two for daily wear, which are memorials of my dear parents; also a locket with the only portrait I have of my niece in heaven, my Evelyn; and her ‘two rings’ mentioned in Under the Surface.  But these I redeem, so that the whole value goes to the Church Missionary Society.  I had no idea I had such a jeweller’s shop, nearly fifty articles are being packed off.  I don’t think I need tell you I never packed a box with such pleasure.”

Towards the end of the year she joined her sister at the Mumbles.  Here she could be quiet in her “workshop,” the walls of which were adorned with pictures she had arranged herself.  On her bookshelf stood her few choice books; the last she read were, The Earth’s Formation on Dynamical Principles, by A.J.  Ritchie, Goodwin’s Works, The Life and Letters of Rev. W. Pennefather, The Upward Gaze by her friend Agnes Giberne, and books by Rev. G. Everard.  On her table was her American typewriter; her desk and table-drawers were all methodically arranged.  It was at her study table that she read her Bible at seven o’clock in summer and eight in winter, her Hebrew Bible, Greek Testament and Lexicon being at hand.  “Sometimes on bitter cold mornings,” says her sister, “I begged that she would read with her feet comfortably to the fire, and received the reply, ’But then, Marie, I can’t rule my lines neatly; just see what a find I have got!  If one only searches, there are such extraordinary things in the Bible.’”

On Christmas-day, 1878, her last Christmas upon earth, she awoke in severe pain, and was ill for some days; but during the time she compiled a set of Christmas and New Year mottoes, which she called Christmas Sunshine and Love and Light for the New Year.  She was ordered rest and felt she needed it.  One remark as to her unceasing work is very touching:—­“I do hope the angels will have orders to let me alone a bit when I first get to heaven.”  She was learning to use as her daily petition the prayer her mother taught her, “O Lord, prepare me for all Thou art preparing for me;” and this He was doing.  By weakness and sickness and by unwearying trust and unwearied labour was she being prepared for that better rest above.