Oh! my friends, whatever be the trials of you faith and of your patience, I sympathize with you; I desire that you may be upheld, that you may be strengthened, that you may find the grace of your Lord to be sufficient for you; and if we poor frail, feeble, unworthy mortals can feel as we do at seasons one for another, oh, what consolation is it to remember, that he who is infinite in mercy, infinite in love, and infinite in power also feels for us; we have a High Priest who is touched with the sense of our infirmities.
(Elizabeth Fry, from Sermons Preached by Members of the Society of Friends)
Kneeling before her Great High Priest,
Touched by infinite mercies,
She opened up arms that had received,
In her hands the keys to the cells,
On her lips the words of liberation,
In her heart transforming love.
How could she repay the Lord?
There was no price enough – only this:
Lips turned to praise, a life turned to give,
The gratitude of the debt-freed slave
Who would not turn to hate her brother,
Having known such grace.