At the age of seventeen, when all my friends thought I was an invalid for life on account of a severe accident I had sustained in my girlhood, a heavenly visitant came and spoke to me, saying, “I have a message for you to bear.” “Why,” I thought, “there certainly must be a great mistake somewhere.” Again were spoken the words: “I have a message for you to bear. Write out for the people what I give you.” Up to that time, my trembling hand had not been able to write a line. I replied, “I cannot do it; I cannot do it.” “Write! write!” were the words spoken once again. I took the pen and paper, and I began to write; and how much I have written since, it is impossible to estimate. The strength, the power, was of God.