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Previous to 1870 the Biglow and Main hymns were widely known in several foreign countries, especially in England. Our publishing house was the rendezvous of a company of musical men, who were in the habit of meeting together after the publication of a new book, for the purpose of singing it through from cover to cover. Among these musical friends may be mentioned Hubert P. Main, William F. Sherwin, Theodore F. Seward, Henry Tucker, Chester G. Alien, Philip Phillips and Theodore E. Perkins, but of this merry group Mr. Main and Mr. Perkins are all that now survive.

From 1872 until the time of her death, seven years later, Frances Ridley Havergal and I corresponded at frequent intervals, and she wrote me a poem of tribute, an extract from which will be found later in this book, together with an account of the incident that led her to thus remember me.

My recollection of Rev. Dr. Robert Lowry dates from 1866. The first hymn of mine for which he com-posed the music was "All the Way my Saviour Leads Me." He used to read to us selections from favorite authors during the long summer afternoons, and I well remember his reading Browning's "Rabbi Ben Ezra" a poem of which he was very fond, and how it reminded us all of the good doctor himself.

"Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be,
The last of life for which the first was planned."

As a critic Dr. Lowry was possessed of excellent taste, and we never so much as thought of appealing from any decision of his whenever the question in dispute related either to poetry or music, for his ear was trained to detect the minutest metrical fault. In 1897 he assisted me in the selection of my best hymns and poems for a book called "Bells at Evening" for which he wrote a very sympathetic biographical introduction from material mostly furnished by Hubert P. Main.

Ere long, however, Dr. Lowry's health began to fail and we watched him with growing anxiety. I shall always recall our last meeting at his home in Plainfield, New Jersey, with tender emotions. We talked together of many of the events of thirty years, and finally he said,

"Fanny, I am going to join those who have gone before, for my work is now done." I could not speak with him concerning the parting without betraying my grief, so I simply took his hand in mine and said quietly,

"I thank you, Doctor Lowry, for all that you have done for me; good night, until we meet in the morning." Then I silently went down the stairs, with the impression on my mind that the good man would soon be at rest from his labors, and so indeed it proved.

"A little while to weep for those we cherish,
As one by one they near the river's brink;
A little while to catch their sweet assurance,
That we in heaven shall find each missing link;
A little while and then the glorious dawning
Of that fair morn beyond the swelling tide,
When we shall wake and in our Saviour's likeness,
Perfect and pure, we shall be satisfied."

Although some of my most treasured friends have passed beyond the sound of human voices, others there are who remain to add their graceful benediction to a life full of blessings and already crowned with peace.

In the year 1867 I met Dr. William H. Doane under very interesting circumstances. He had come from his home in Cincinnati to New York to visit his friend Dr. Van Meter of the Five Points Mission; and they were looking for a hymn that might be used on a certain anniversary. A number of standard hymns were given to Mr. Doane, but he did not find them appropriate. About this time I had been writing "More Like Jesus"; and Dr. Lowry asked me why I did not send it to Mr. Doane. I said, "Well, I will" and accordingly sent it by a messenger boy. The latter handed my words to Mr. Doane, who happened to be at the moment talking with Dr. Van Meter; and he laid them down for a few minutes. When he took up the letter and glanced over its contents he started after the boy, but could not find him. He returned to Dr. Van Meter disheartened, but determined to find me if I was anywhere to be found in the city. He again went out and hunted for me the rest of the day; and it was not until about eight or nine in the evening that he was finally directed to my board-ing place. I went to the door, and he asked, "Are you Fanny Crosby?" On being informed I was that person he said,

"Oh, how glad I am to find you; I have been trying to do so a long while, and at last I have succeeded." At the close of our interview he said,

"I must pay you for the hymn that you sent and which I was more than glad to receive." He put into my hand what he supposed to be a two-dollar bill, and then bade me good night. It struck me that I ought to ask him how much he had given me; that there might be no mistake about it. He came back; I showed him the bill, which proved to be twenty dollars. Of course, I declined to take that amount; but he said that the Lord had sent that hymn, and therefore meant that I should have the twenty dollars for it. The following evening he renewed his visit and gave me the subject "Pass Me Not, O Gentle Saviour."