Mrs. Kensett had ever been an untiring church goer; rain or shine, she was in her place.  Her son-in-law was not a Christian, and always had an excellent excuse for remaining at home, in the summer the horses were tired, or it was too hot; in the winter it was too cold, or too something.  Many a dreary Sabbath the sad mother sat at her chamber window and watched the rain come down in slow, straight drizzle, repeating to herself rather than singing, as she rocked too and fro,

“How lovely is thy dwelling-place,
O Lord of hosts to me! 
The tabernacles of thy grace,
How pleasant, Lord, they be!

“My thirsty soul longs vehemently,
Yea, faints thy courts to see;
My very heart and flesh cry out,
O living God for thee.”

Longing meanwhile with intense desire to sit once again in the old pew, and hear the familiar tones of her pastor’s voice in that far-away, pleasant village that used to be her home; now she had no home, a wanderer from house to house, and yet she was not a murmurer, her faith and love did not falter.

In due course of time she went on her pilgrim way and tarried for a time at her daughter Hannah’s; a good-natured soul, who loved her mother and gave her welcome to such as she had, but she lived in a small house, with a large flock of children, undisciplined, rough, and noisy.  It seemed that in the full little house there was no quiet corner for retreat, and grandma often moaned in the words of one of her dear psalms

“O that I like a dove had wings,
Said I, then would I flee,
Far hence that I might find a place
Where I in rest might be.”

“After all I need all this,” the old saint would say to herself.  “It’s a part of my dear Lord’s schooling.  I was having too nice a time, Ephraim and I all alone.  I dare say I got out of the way and he had to bring me back.  He sent me all that peaceful, comfortable time; I was very glad to have his will done when it was according to my notion; this is his will all the same, and shall not I be willing to take what he sends?  He is only getting me ready.

“Soon the delightful day will come
When my dear Lord will call me home,
And I shall see his face.”

Albeit the house was small, and the children noisy, this persecuted grandmother of many homes found herself dreading to leave it and find a new home with her eldest son.  John’s wife had always been to her a most uncomfortable sort of person; she had dreaded her not frequent visits to their home.  Both were glad when they were over.  Twenty years had passed since his marriage; she never seemed to get any nearer to his wife.  Now the time had come to go and live with them, she shrank from it, and postponed it for weeks, but John was inflexible, he was an upright man, and bound to do his part in sharing the burden of his mother’s maintenance.