Lastly, it is charity to nurse sick bodies well; it is greater charity
to nurse well and patiently sick minds, tiresome sufferers. But there is
a greater charity even than these: to do good to those who are not good
to us, to behave well to those who behave ill to us, to serve with love
those who do not even receive our service with good temper, to forgive
on the instant any slight which we may have received, or may have
fancied we have received, or any worse injury.
If we cannot “do good” to those who “persecute” us--for we are not
“persecuted”: if we cannot pray “Father, forgive them, for they know not
what they do”--for none are nailing us to a cross: how much more must we
try to serve with patience and love any who use us spitefully, to nurse
with all our hearts any thankless peevish patients!
We Nurses may well call ourselves “blessed among women” in this, that we
can be always exercising all these three charities, and so fulfil the
work our God has given us to do.
Just as I was writing this came a letter from Mrs. Beecher Stowe, who
wrote _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_. She has so fallen in love with the character
of our Agnes Jones (“Una”)[5] which she had just read, that she asks
about the progress of our work, supposing that we have many more Unas.
They wish to “organise a similar movement” in America--a “movement” of
Unas--what a great thing that would be! Shall we all try to be Unas?
She ends, as I wish to end,--“Yours, in the dear name that is above
every other,”