Deep Waters

A COLLECTION OF A NECDOTES
Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook

Deep
Waters
and a
Bubbling
Brook
Deep
Waters
and a
Bubbling
Brook
P R O V E R B S 18:4
Deep
Waters
and a
Bubbling
Brook
P R O V E R B S 18:4
HARVEST ACTIVITIES
2929 HILLSIDE LANE
D A R I E N , I L L I N O I S 6 0 561
Preface
A proverb may be described as a moral without the fable
attached. Simple statements of wisdom, they can be applied
to a wide variety of experiences. In Proverbs 18:4 (NAS),
these gems are likened to “deep waters” and “a bubbling
brook.” How descriptive is this metaphor. Proverbs promote
depthful thinking in their applications. And these distilla-
tions of great truths are as refreshing as a bubbling brook.
In the pages that follow are a number of short anecdotes,
some well-known and others lesser-known, that provide ex-
amples of proverbs in action. Like the famous Chicken Soup
devotional books, these stories illustrate important lessons
in the Christian life. They are taken from many sources, the
majority of them being inclusions in e-mails from friends
of the compiler over a period of years. In this book they are
arranged in nineteen sections, each under the heading of an
appropriate proverb from the Bible.
While a number of these narratives are true stories, others
are fictional; but all serve to illustrate great principles of
truth applicable to true Christian living.
In addition to the anecdotes, we have included a large
number of “one-liners,” terse statements that encapsulate
depthful lessons. Two of the chapters of this book are
devoted to collections of these short gems: one by Carl
Schrade in his “Someone Once Said” and another by Elmer
Weeks. Both are used with their permission.
Credit must also be given to the late Anton Frey, from
whose book “Tales Twice Told” a number of these anec-
dotes, and the one-line aphorisms interspersed throughout
this book, are derived.
The compiler also wants to express his appreciation to
Shirley Bicke’l Evans for her hard work in designing, arrang-
ing, illustrating and typesetting this material, and to Lana
Turner for her tireless efforts in editing and proofreading.
We hope and trust that this collection of devotional mate-
rial will be as refreshing and helpful to you as it has been
to us.
Carl Hagensick
October 2004
Acknowledgments
I want to thank my Heavenly Father for blessing me with
a talent and allowing me to use it to glorify his name. I
have derived great pleasure from laying out and illustrating
this book, as well as the earlier book, songs of the nightingale.
I thank my husband Richard for encouraging me to use
my talents to the fullest and always to do my very best. I
treasure the paths we have walked together.
Thanks also to Carl Hagensick who had confidence in
me to undertake these two projects, and for his patience.
He waited until I enrolled in and graduated from a Graphic
Design program, a two-year course I felt was necessary to
qualify me for the task.
After I showed my first illustrations to my painting com-
panion and friend, Sande Nitti, she spontaneously demon-
strated the art of Sumi-e brush painting. I was spellbound!
It has had a profound influence in all my drawings and
illustrations since. Sande has been a constant and consistent
source of inspiration and assistance.
I’m grateful for the support and insights of my late sister
Jackie Lamel. It was her suggestion to use scriptures from
the Proverbs to organize the anecdotes in this book. It was
also Jackie who recommended the illustrations reflect a crisp,
sharp look instead of the soft Sumi-e brush paintings used in
the poetry book. I have always treasured her comments, so I
started on another path, learning a new art technique. Elsie
Petrequin-Noble of Clark College brought my illustrations to
a higher level with her gentle, masterful guidance.
A big thanks to Lana Turner who accepted the chal-
lenge to edit and proofread the book. Her careful eye and
nuanced ear allowed the stories to flow seamlessly. We
have worked side by side as this book progressed. Others
involved in the proofreading of both books were Ferne Berg,
Margaret Ferlejewski, and my sister Jean Mora.
My graphic design instructor, Krystl Honda-Plinz of Clark
College, offered invaluable advice on the layout design, as
did Chris Maier of Mt. Hood Community College, Brian
Evans of the University of Alabama, and David Turner,
Lana’s son.
Shirley Bickél Evans
Contents ix
Contents
1 Do not let Kindness and Truth leave you
The Heart of a Lesson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Are You God’s Wife? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Secret of Service . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Someone Who Understands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Hospital Room . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
2
3
3
4
5
A Home for the Jonquils . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
The Old Lamplighter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
The Most Caring Child . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
The Pickle Jar ............................ 8
A Lift in the Rain ........................ 10
The Richer Reward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
Smile! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
The Cavemen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
Class Project: Smile! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
2
Giving Again ............................ 15
Compliments Count . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
Trust in the LORD with all your heart

A Pearl Necklace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
Father, Are You There? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
Flying Blind. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
Fly Like an Eagle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
Under His Wings ........................ 23
Adding Burden to Burden . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
Seven Ups Guaranteed to Lift Your Day . . . . . . . . 24
Walking to Scranton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Take the Burden Off Your Back . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Creeping Across the Ice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
The Glass Between . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
Too Small to Turn the Door Knob . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
A Father’s Care . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
Faith is a Glass Floor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
Washing Away the Scars in the Sand ........ 29
A Grandmother’s Promise . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
Making the Waves Come In . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
Photographs Develop in Darkness . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
The Creator won’t ask .................... 32
x Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook
Don’t Quit Playing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
3
A Finger, then a Hand. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
The Ant and the Contact Lens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
Do not be Wise in your own eyes

Final Exam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
A Cucumber in a Bottle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
At the End of the Tunnel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
Acres of Diamonds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
The Atmosphere of Faith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
Using Love to Obtain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
The Lad at the Helm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
Sin of Lying . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
The Globe that “Just Happened” . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
The Wrong Definition of Conscience . . . . . . . . 44
Reversing the Hands of the Watch . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
Are You a Pumpkin? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
Darwinian vs. God Contest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
Assembling a Meat-Chopper . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
4
Crying for the Wasp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
The Hen or the Egg? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
How blessed is the man who finds Wisdom

The Fork . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
The Wise Woman’s Stone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
The Source of Wisdom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
The True Teacher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
Summer Trees . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
A Pane of Glass . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
We Have Only Theories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
A Thousand Marbles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
The Successful Plea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
The Empty Egg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
The Wisdom of Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
The Wise Old Owl . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
Mud Puddles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
Exceptional Lessons in History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
Look Up . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
The Half Cannot Be Told . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
The Dynamics of Faith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Old Scottish Verse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Contents xi
5 The LORD will be your Confidence

The New Footprints . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
A Camel Left Over . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
A Lesson in Heart . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
Faith’s Two Options . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
The Engine Room was Quiet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
In the Well with God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
Chosen to Clap and Cheer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Looking Backward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Reaching Thinner Air . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
The Source of the Shadow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Saved by the Rain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Paganini’s Last String . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
6
The Chosen Vessel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
Two Lights to Show the Way . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
Do not Withhold Good…

When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking . . . . . . . . 80
A Good Deed Rewarded . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
Just for You . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
True Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
My Father will Pay for it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
“But it’s Warm Now” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
A Two-Fold Blessing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
What Goes Around Comes Around . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
The Master’s Touch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
Cold Water for a Fevered Child . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
A Tale of Bread and Butter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
Hang On to One Another . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
Most Important Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
The Instrument Belongs to the Master . . . . . . . . 91
Always Remember Those Who Serve . . . . . . . . 92
Even the Leaves are Fragrant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
Catalysts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
So Faithful to Duty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
A Canary in the Radio Studio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
Mistaken Identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
A Missed Opportunity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
xii Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook
7 Take hold of Instruction; Do not let go

Refiner and Purifier of Silver . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
Interview with God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
Your Garden of Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I Asked God to…
Aqueducts Need Water
....................
................
100
101
101
Guidance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
In a Minute . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
Plant Geraniums Outside . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103
Don’t Walk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103
The Liana Vines of Sin ................ 104
Always Copy the Original. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Clear Water Reflects Best . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Some Good Thoughts ................ 106
“Me Try Some More” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
A Lesson ............................ 109
I’ve learned that… . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110
Apples or Chips . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
The Heavens Make Us Small . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
Beauty Tips . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
8
Michelangelo’s Shadow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
Handle with Care .................... 114
Watch over your Heart with all Diligence

Accusations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
Achievement ........................ 119
Actions. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
Advice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
Aging . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
Ambition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
Anger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
Appreciation ........................ 122
Attitude ............................ 122
Bible . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
Boasting ............................ 124
Budget . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
Burden . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
Challenge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
Change ............................ 125
Character . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
Contents xiii
Cheerfulness ........................ 126

Choice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
Commitment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
Compassion ........................ 128
Conscience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
Consecration ........................ 129
Contentment ........................ 129
Courage ............................ 130
Criticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
Deception . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
Decisions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
Defeat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
Dependency ........................ 132
Diligence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
Discipline . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
Duty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
Ease . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
Efficiency . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
Emotions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
Empathy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135
Encouragement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135
Endurance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135
Enthusiasm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
Error . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
Example ............................ 136
Excuse-making . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
Experience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
Failure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
Faith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
Falsehood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140
Faults . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
Fear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
Fellowship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
Flattery ............................ 142
Fools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
Forgiveness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
Fortune ............................ 143
Friendship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143
God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
xiv Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook
Gossip . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
Greatness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
Greed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
Growth ............................ 146
Habits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
Happiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
Heart . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148
History ............................ 148
Honesty ............................ 148
Hope . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
Human Nature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
Humility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150
Immaturity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
Indecision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
Industriousness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
Influence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
Integrity ............................ 153
Intoxication. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Judging ............................ 154
Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
Kindness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
Knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
Laziness ............................ 156
Liberty. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
Life ................................ 156
Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
Mammon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
Manners . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
Marriage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
Maturity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
Meddling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
Mistakes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
Moderation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Obedience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Open-mindedness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Opportunity ........................ 162
Patience ............................ 162
Perseverance ........................ 163
Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Prayer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Contents xv
Pride . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
Principle ............................ 165
Priorities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166
Problems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166
Procrastination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Progress ............................ 167
Providence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Purpose ............................ 168
Religion ............................ 168
Reproof ............................ 168
Reputation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
Resignation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
Responsibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
Retribution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
Self-denial . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
Self-esteem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
Service . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171
Sharing ............................ 171
Silence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
Sin ................................ 172
Sincerity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
Skill . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173
Slander. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173
Smile . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
Sorrow. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
Sow/Reap . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
Stewardship ........................ 175
Stubbornness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
Success. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
Suffering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
Tact ................................ 176
Temptation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
Tolerance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
Tongue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
Trials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178
Trouble. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
Trust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
Truth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
Unselfishness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180
Values . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181
Victory. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181
xvi Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook
Virtue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181
Wisdom ............................ 182
Witnessing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183
9
Words . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184
Worry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
I Love those who Love Me

The Art Collector .................... 188
Whispers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190
Effective Preaching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190
The Trees’ Garments of “Glory and Beauty” 191
A Box of Kisses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192
The Song of an Old Man . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192
The Bee that Would Not be Saved . . . . . . . . 194
The Kiss of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
The Sighs of Love .................... 196
The Smell of Rain .................... 198
Will We Entertain the Lord Today? . . . . . . . . 200
The Stinging Scorpion ................ 203
An “A” for Behavior . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
The Rented Room .................... 204
Blooms for the Neighbor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
The Blind Man’s Lantern . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207
A Special Person . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207
The Many Names of Christ ............ 208
10
Living in the House You Build . . . . . . . . . . . . 209
Straining the Musical Strings . . . . . . . . . . . . 209
The Lips of the Righteous feed many

“Information Please” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
Following the Conscience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214
When the Clock Stopped . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215
The Wrong Book. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215
A Soft Answer Turneth Away Wrath .... 216
The Christian’s “Wavemaster” . . . . . . . . . . . . 217
A Few Kind Words . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217
One Person . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218
One Day at a Time . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219
It’s a Small, Small World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
Rabbi Talner’s Prayer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
I Wish You Enough . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222
Contents xvii
It’s the Chords that Count. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223

The Light Within .................... 224
Animals Attack from the Rear . . . . . . . . . . . . 224
11
The Scent of Danger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225
Feeling the Tug . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225
Whoever loves Discipline loves knowledge

The Ingredients of Zeal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228
Is the Jar Full? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230
The Broken Microscope . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231
Incompatible Pictures. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232
Kill the Ivy When it’s Small ............ 233
The Crowded House . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233
Spring— Life Anew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234
Wounded Nasturtiums ................ 234
The Spot on the Inside ................ 235
Seeing the Guilty Seven Miles Away .... 235
The Call of the Barnyard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236
Drowning in a Canoe ................ 237
Creosote . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238
The Woodpecker and the Telephone Pole. . . . 238
Helping the Butterfly . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239
12
Boiled by Degrees .................... 239
The Speeding Ticket . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240
He who is Slow to Anger…

Robby . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
Let the Mud Dry. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
The Wolves Within . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
Watching the Sun Move . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247
Captain Not Drunk Tonight . . . . . . . . . . . . 247
The Child and the Gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248
Taking a Second Glance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248
Giving Two-Fold. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
On Business for the Firm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250
The Fence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250
On Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251
The Blessing of a Broken Leg . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
Arrows on the Head . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
Living with the Dandelions ............ 253
xviii Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook
13 A Tranquil Heart is life to the body

The Bible’s ABC’s ....................
Seven Wonders of the World . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Influence of a Gentle Hand
The Hallelujah Chorus ................

........
Dwelling with the Rose . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
256
257
258
258
259
God Thundereth. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
Redeem the Time .................... 260
How You Look at Things . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
Gladness for a Space . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
Of War and Roses .................... 262
Seeing with Blind Eyes ................ 263
The Lesson of the Daffodils ............ 264
Too Much Comfort . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266
Flowers Under the Snow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266
The Steady Old Clock ................ 267
Just the Estate I Wanted . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267
The Obstacle in our Path . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
The Ministry of Pain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
14
God Holds the Reins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269
Lying on your Back . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269
A Joyful Heart makes a cheerful face

Secret of Happiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272
Two Frogs in the Milk ................ 274
Using the Wind . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274
In the Bell Tower .................... 275
Words of Wisdom .................... 275
The Story of an Old Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276
“That’s All I Want” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277
Influence of Small Things . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278
For Better Fuchsias . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279
Happiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279
Choosing Happiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280
A Vision of the Heart . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281
Invisible Brains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281
The Gentian Flower . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282
The Oyster . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283
Contents xix
15 How delightful is a Timely Word

Angels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Whistle the Best You Can . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Building Prison Walls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
She Must be Jesus’ Mother
The “Arbitrary” Commandments . . . . . . . .
............
286
287
288
288
289
16
Salt Creates Thirst . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289
The Sandpiper . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290
The LORD…hears the Prayer of the righteous

The Lord’s Prayer .................... 296
Are You Too Busy? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 297
Just PUSH! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298
Small Results ........................ 299
What if God… . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300
I Asked the LORD to Bless You. . . . . . . . . . . . 301
He Who Never Sleeps. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301
Safely on Your Knees . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301
Answer to Prayer .................... 302
I Asked God… . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 302
“I Saw the Pilot Smile” ................ 303
The Marble Doesn’t Matter Any More . . . . 303
“A Good Run” ........................ 304
Count Your Blessings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304
Pulling the Great Ship Closer . . . . . . . . . . . . 305
Sand in the Shoes .................... 305
The Perfect Mistake . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306
Metamorphosis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307
Emergency Phone Numbers ............ 308
The Comfort of a Listening Ear. . . . . . . . . . . . 309
A.S.A.P. ............................ 309
17
A Cloud of Smoke .................... 310
Reaching the Heart . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311
A Friend Loves at all times

Drinking from a Saucer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314
Helping Others Win . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315
Taking Care of the Lambs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315
Cracked Pots ........................ 316
An Apron Full of Glass ................ 317
xx Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook
Just a Short Way to Go Together ........ 317

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder . . . . . . . . 318
The Gift of Brotherhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320
True Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321
The Pit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321
The Shoulder ........................ 322
The Voice of his Father ................ 323
The Human Bible .................... 324
Known by her Father . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324
Knowing the Author . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325
Showing the Way .................... 325
Who is a True Friend? ................ 326
If it Doesn’t Rain .................... 327
Two Goats on a Bridge ................ 327
Lincoln Scattering an April Shower . . . . . . . . 328
In the Ruins of Pompeii . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328
Stained Glass Saints . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328
A Toddler’s Smile .................... 329
What Science Cannot Measure . . . . . . . . . . . . 329
Jesus, Friend of the Common Man . . . . . . . . 330
Making it Easier for the Competition .... 330
Ignore the Blots . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331
Daddy Didn’t Say, “Oh!” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331
Written in Stone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332
There’s Only One Today! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332
Friendship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 333
The Athenians and the Spartans ........ 333
18
The Goose Story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 334
A Tricycle for my Brother . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
A Joyful Heart is good medicine

Quick Cure at the Doctor’s Office . . . . . . . . 338
Barney . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 338
The Winking Owl .................... 339
Discouraged ........................ 339
The Jam is Loving-Kindness . . . . . . . . . . . . 339
Light the Lantern .................... 340
What it Means to be Adopted . . . . . . . . . . . . 340
Willingly Deaf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 340
The Best Translation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341
You Can Only Weigh What You Are .... 341
Contents xxi
A Good Camera . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341

“Likee Speech?” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 342
It’s the Content that Counts . . . . . . . . . . . . 342
Laughing at the Storm ................ 343
Man, Boy and Donkey ................ 343
Bumblebees Cannot Fly . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 344
What Do We Hear? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 344
“There Ain’t No Such Animal” . . . . . . . . . . . . 345
A Bumped Cow Kicks ................ 345
Carry a Can of Oil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 346
When Five Minutes is an Hour . . . . . . . . . . . . 346
19
The Christian in the Coal Mine ........ 347
Total Commitment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 347
Listen to Counsel and accept Discipline

Adversity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 350
Anger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351
Aspirations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 352
Attitude ............................ 352
Awareness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 354
Bible . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 354
Christian Living . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 355
Christmas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 356
Conscience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 356
Contentment ........................ 356
Criticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 356
Devotions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 357
Double-mindedness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 357
Enthusiasm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 357
Failure/Success . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 358
Faith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 360
Fear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361
Forgiveness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 362
Friendship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 362
Gentleness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363
God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363
Goodness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363
Growth ............................ 363
Habits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 364
Happiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 364
Helpfulness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
xxii Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook
Honesty, Truthfulness ................ 366

Hope . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367
Humility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367
Influence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367
Jealousy ............................ 368
Judging ............................ 369
Kindness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369
Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369
Liberty. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369
Loneliness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 370
Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 370
Patience ............................ 371
Perseverance ........................ 371
Prayer, Praise ........................ 372
Pride . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 373
Procrastination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
Reputation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
Righteousness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
Selfishness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
Sin ................................ 374
Thankfulness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375
Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375
Time . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375
Understanding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 376
Wisdom ............................ 376
Witness ............................ 377
Words . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 377
Work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 378
Worldliness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 380
Worry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 380
1
Do not let
Kindness
and Truth
leave you
P ROV E R B S 3 : 3
2 Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook
The Heart of a Lesson
H IS name was Bill. He had wild hair, wore a T-shirt with

holes in it, jeans and no shoes. This was his wardrobe
for his entire four years of college. He was kind of eccentric
but very, very bright. He became a Christian while attending
college.
Across the street from the campus was a prosperous and
very conservative church. They wanted to develop a ministry
to the students, but were not sure how to go about it.
One day Bill decides to go to the church. He walks in with
his wild hair, jeans, T-shirt, and bare feet.
The service has already started, so Bill starts down the aisle
looking for a seat. The church is completely packed and he
can’t find a seat. The well-dressed people look a bit uncom-
fortable, but no one says anything. Bill gets closer and closer
to the pulpit, and when he realizes there are no seats, he just
sits down right on the floor.
By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the
air is thick.
About this time, the minister realizes that from the back of
the church, a deacon is slowly making his way toward Bill.
The deacon is in his eighties, with silver hair and a three-piece
suit. A godly man, very elegant, very dignified. Leaning on his
cane, he walks down the aisle toward the boy.
The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the
man’s cane. All eyes are focused on him. The minister can’t
even preach the sermon until the deacon does what he has
to do. Everyone expects the deacon is going to eject Bill from
church — and who could blame him?
But now they see the elderly man drop his cane on the floor.
With great difficulty, he lowers himself to sit down next to Bill
and worship with him so he won’t be alone.
Everyone chokes up with emotion. When the minister
regains his control, he says, “What I’m about to preach, you
will never remember. What you have just seen, you will never
forget.”
Be careful how you live. You may be the only Bible some
people will ever read.
1 : Do not let kindness and truth leave you 3
Are You God’s Wife?
A boy about ten years old was standing in front of a shoe

store, barefooted, peering through the window and
shivering with cold. A lady approached the boy and said, “My
little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that win-
dow?” “I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,” was the
boy’s reply.
The lady took him by the hand and went into the store and
asked for the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the
boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and
a towel. He quickly brought them to her. She took the young
fellow to the back of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt
down, washed his feet and dried them with the towel.
By this time the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a
pair upon the boy’s feet, she purchased a pair of shoes for him.
She packaged the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to
him.
She patted him on the head and said, “No doubt, my young
fellow, you feel more comfortable now?” As she turned to go,
the astonished lad caught her by the hand, and looking up into
her face with tears in his eyes, answered her question with
these words:
“Are you God’s wife?”
A. C. Frey Collection
The Secret of Service
D RUMMOND tells of a young woman whose life of sacrifice

was the wonder of all who knew her. Nothing was too
great to do for Christ. Every interest in her life was subor-
dinated to his interests. The poor, the sinful, the lonely, the
children, the needy of every description found in her a friend
indeed. In a conversation with her one day, Drummond asked
her the secret of her service. Without answering she opened
a locket that hung upon her breast. In it was inscribed the an-
swer: “Whom having not seen, I love.” This is the secret of
every life that truly accepts Christ.
Someone Who Understands
A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted

a sign advertising the pups and set about nailing it to
a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail
into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls.
He looked down into the eyes of a little boy. “Mister,” the
lad said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.” “Well,” said
the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck,
“these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of
money.”
The boy thought for a moment. Then, reaching deep into
his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to
the farmer. “I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take
a look?” “Sure,” said the farmer. And with that he let out a
whistle, “Here, Dolly!” he called.
Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly, fol-
lowed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face
against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight. As
the dogs came up to the fence, the little boy noticed some-
thing else stirring inside the doghouse. Another little ball ap-
peared; slowly and awkwardly, the little pup began hobbling
toward the others, doing its best to catch up.
“I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt.
The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you
don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play
with you like these other dogs would.” At that, the little boy
stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling
up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace
running down both sides of his leg, attached to a specially-
made shoe.
Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see, sir, I don’t
run too well myself, and he will need someone who
understands.”
The Hospital Room
T WO men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital

room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an
hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His
bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had
to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives
and families, their homes and jobs, their military service, and
their travels. And every afternoon, when the man in the bed
by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by de-
scribing to his roommate all the things he could see outside
the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour
periods when his world would be broadened and enlivened
by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window
overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played
on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young
lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the
rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view
of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite
detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his
eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. With this pleasant
daily interlude, days and weeks passed.
One morning, when the day nurse arrived, she found the
lifeless body of the man by the window. He had died peace-
fully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital
attendant to take the body away. As soon as it seemed appro-
priate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the
window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after
making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to
take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have
the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to look out the
window.
It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could
have possessed his deceased roommate, who had described
such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse re-
sponded, “Why, that man was blind. He couldn’t even see the
wall! Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”
A Home for the Jonquils
I T was a cold night. I was mentally and physically tired

and felt quite depressed. Customers in the store where
I work had been cross and bothersome; tempers had been
sharp all day; nothing had gone right. I was glad it was six
o’clock and I could go home and relax.
I stopped at the corner store for some groceries, and even
the clerk matched the mood of the day. Grumpily he said,
“Hurry up, lady, I want to go home too.” As I was leaving the
store, I noticed a single bunch of jonquils in a bucket of water;
they were huddled together as though they were lonely and
cold. They seemed to say, “Please, lady, take us home.” They
were so beautiful, yet so out of place. I snatched them up,
paid the clerk, and left.
As I walked the short distance to my home, my step was
lighter and my previously dampened spirit rose. Upon enter-
ing my dark room, I was struck with the golden brilliance of
the flowers. As I tenderly placed them in a vase, I seemed to
hear them say, “But this isn’t our home.”
I couldn’t explain the feeling, but I had a strong impulse to
take the flowers to my shut-in neighbor across the hall. As I
entered her room, the shut-in stared for a moment, then said,
“How did you know? All day in my memories I’ve been walk-
ing among the jonquils in the garden I had years ago.”
As I placed the flowers into her trembling hands, I had the
distinct impression that their heads nodded in approval, and
as I left, I seemed to hear their golden bells ringing out their
thanks.
Feeling warm and happy inside, I forgot all the upsets of
the day and again felt in tune with God. Do flowers talk? Yes,
they do, I heard them.
The Old Lamplighter
I was born in the great city of New York, in the borough

known as the Bronx. In those early days, and for some time
after the turn of the century, the city could boast of electric
lights on the avenues; but the side streets were lighted by gas-
lamps. These had to be individually lighted each and every day.
Accordingly, in the late afternoon, it was not unusual to see a
middle-aged man, with a ladder strapped to his back, come
down the street, carrying a long stick with a lighted candle
on the end of it. This he would stick into each lamp to light
it. Then he would cross over the street to light the next lamp;
and thus he continued to light one lamp after another — this
was his mission! Eventually, one could see the lamplighter no
longer, for the darkness would swallow him up. However, one
could see the lights that he had left behind him.
There are people about us, and some who will come along
after us, who will stumble and fall in the darkness unless we
leave lighted lamps in the way for them. Jesus urged us to let
our lights shine.
A. C. Frey
The Most Caring Child
A UTHOR and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once told of a

contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the con-
test was to find the most caring child.
The winner was a four-year-old child whose next-door
neighbor was an elderly gentlemen who had recently lost his
wife. Upon seeing the man crying, the little boy went into the
old gentleman’s yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor,
the little boy said, “Nothing, I just helped him cry.”
The Pickle Jar
A S far back as I can remember, the pickle jar sat on the

floor beside the dresser in my parents’ bedroom. When
he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss
his coins into the jar. As a small boy I was always fascinated
at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the
jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost
empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the
jar filled. I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and
admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate’s
treasure when the sunlight streamed through the bedroom
window.
When the jar was full, Dad would sit at the kitchen table
and roll the coins into paper holders. Taking the coins to the
bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small
cardboard box, the coins rode between Dad and me on the
seat of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to the
bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. “Those coins are go-
ing to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You’re going to
do better than me. This old mill town’s not going to hold you
back.” As he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter
toward the teller, he would grin proudly. “These are for my
son’s college fund. He won’t have to work at the mill all his
life like me.”
We would celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice
cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla.
When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change,
he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm.
“When we get home, we’ll start filling the jar again.”
He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As
they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at
each other.
“You’ll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quar-
ters,” he said. “But you’ll get there. I’ll see to that.”
The years passed, and I finished college and took a job
in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used
the phone in their bedroom and noticed that the pickle jar
was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.
A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the

dresser where the jar had always stood.
My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me
on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The
pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently
than the most flowery of words could have done. When I mar-
ried, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly
pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind it defined,
more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.
No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to
doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when
he got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve beans
several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.
On the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, he be-
came more determined than ever to make a way out for me.
“When you finish college, son,” he told me, his eyes glistening,
“You’ll never have to eat beans again … unless you want to.”
The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we
spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and
Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling
their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper, and Susan
took her from Dad’s arms.
“She probably needs to be changed,” she said, carrying the
baby into my parents’ bedroom to diaper her.
When Susan came back into the living room, there was a
strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad be-
fore taking my hand and leading me into the room.
“Look,” she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on
the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it
had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom
already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug
down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins.
Choked with emotion, I dropped the coins into the jar. I
looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped
quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was
feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak
but our hearts understood.
Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we
forget to count our blessings. Sorrow looks back. Worry looks
around. Faith looks up!
A Lift in the Rain
L ATE one night in the 1960’s, an older black woman was

standing on the side of an Alabama highway in a lash-
ing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately
needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next
car. A young white man stopped to help her — generally un-
heard of in those conflict-filled times. The man took her to
safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.
She seemed to be in a big hurry! She wrote down his address,
thanked him and rode away.
Seven days went by and a knock came on the man’s door.
To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his
home. A special note was attached. It read: “Thank you so
much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The
rain drenched not only my clothes but also my spirits. Then
you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my
dying husband’s bedside just before he passed away. God
bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.
Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole”
The Richer Reward
R EV. Louis H. Evans, in the Presbyterian Survey, describes

a few hours spent in the operating room of a medical
missionary:
When he had finished, I stepped to his side. Gazing at his
face, which was streaming wet from his exertions, and pale
with the pallor that comes from keen anxiety and intense
strain, I asked him: “Doctor, how can you stand it? Surely,
every day is not like this?”
He merely smiled.
“How much money would you have received in the States
for an operation like this?”
“Oh, about six hundred dollars.”
“How much will you receive for this one?”
A strange light blazed into his tired eyes. I shall never forget
his reply: “My fee,” said the missionary physician, “my fee
will be this man’s gratitude — and there can be no richer re-

ward than that.”
Some men’s souls are too big to be contained within their
breasts; they overflow in deeds of sympathy and toil
and love.
Smile!
I am told that the muscles of the face are capable of over

250,000 different combinations of expressions. And one of
the most useful is a smile.
Fulton J. Sheen used to say, “A smile across the aisle of a
bus in the morning could save a suicide later in the day.” We
all need the healing medicine of the heart that a smile, even
from a stranger, provides. And for some, that medicine can
save lives.
English essayist Joseph Addison put it this way: “What sun-
shine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.” Don’t say you
can’t make a difference! Don’t ever say you have nothing to
give! Each of us can give a smile, spontaneously and sincerely.
Its value may not be recognized at once, but be assured that
it will be felt.
My friend, Laura, sent me this anonymous poem about
passing along a smile:
Smiling is infectious, you catch it like the flu,
When someone smiled at me today, I started smiling too.
I passed around the corner and someone saw my grin,
When he smiled I realized I’d passed it on to him.
I thought about that smile, then I realized its worth,
A single smile, just like mine, could travel ’round the
Earth.
So, if you feel a smile begin, don’t leave it undetected;
Let’s start an epidemic quick, and get the world infected!
Today you will find plenty of occasions to pass along a
heartfelt smile. Remember — it’s the second best thing you
can do with your lips!
The Cavemen
L ONG ago, or maybe not so long ago, there was a tribe in

a dark, cold cavern. The cave dwellers would huddle to-
gether and cry against the chill. Loud and long they wailed. It
was all they did. It was all they knew to do. The sounds in the
cave were mournful, but the people didn’t know it, for they
had never known joy. The spirit in the cave was death, but the
people didn’t know it, for they had never known life.
But then, one day, they heard a different voice. “I have
heard your cries,” it announced. “I have felt your chill and
seen your darkness. I have come to help.”
The cave people grew quiet. They had never heard this
voice. Hope sounded strange to their ears. “How can we
know you have come to help?”
“Trust me,” he answered. “I have what you need.”
The cave people peered through the darkness at the figure of
the stranger. He was stacking something, then stooping and
stacking more.
“What are you doing?” one cried, nervously.
The stranger didn’t answer.
“What are you making?” one shouted even louder.
Still no response.
“Tell us!” demanded a third.
The visitor stood and spoke in the direction of the voices. “I
have what you need.” With that he turned to the pile at his
feet and lit it. Wood ignited, flames erupted, and light filled
the cavern.
The cave people turned away in fear. “Put it out!” they cried.
“It hurts to see it.”
“Light always hurts before it helps,” he answered. “Step
closer. The pain will soon pass.”
“Not I,” declared a voice.
“Nor I,” agreed a second.
“Only a fool would risk exposing his eyes to such light.”
The stranger stood next to the fire. “Would you prefer the
darkness? Would you prefer the cold? Don’t consult your
fears. Take a step of faith!”
For a long time no one spoke. The people hovered in groups
covering their eyes. The fire builder stood next to the fire. “It’s
warm here,” he invited.
“He’s right,” one from behind him announced. “It’s warmer.”
The stranger turned and saw a figure slowly stepping to-
ward the fire. “I can open my eyes now,” she proclaimed.
“I can see.”
“Come closer,” invited the fire builder.
She did. She stepped into the ring of light.
“It’s so warm!” She extended her hands and sighed as her
chill began to pass.
“Come, everyone! Feel the warmth,” she invited.
“Silence, woman!” cried one of the cave dwellers. “Dare you
lead us into your folly? Leave us. Leave us and take your light
with you.”
She turned to the stranger. “Why won’t they come?”
“They choose the chill, for though it’s cold, it’s what they
know. They’d rather be cold than change.”
“And live in the dark?”
“And live in the dark.”
The now-warm woman stood silent, looking first at the
dark, then at the man.
“Will you leave the fire?” he asked.
She paused, then answered, “I cannot. I cannot bear the
cold.” Then she spoke again. “Nor can I bear the thought of
my people in darkness.”
“You don’t have to,” he responded, reaching into the fire and
removing a stick. “Carry this to your people. Tell them the
light is here, and the light is warm. Tell them the light is for all
who desire it.”
And so she took the small flame and stepped into the
shadows.
Class Project: Smile!
T HE last class I had to take for my college degree was So-

ciology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring, with the
qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with.
Her last project of the term was called “Smile.” The class was
asked to go out and smile at three people and document their
reactions. I am a very friendly person and always smile at ev-
eryone anyway, so I thought this would be a piece of cake.
Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband,
youngest son, and I went out to a fast food restaurant one
crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special
time together. We were standing in line, waiting to be served,
when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away,
and then even my husband did.
I did not move an inch. A feeling of panic welled up inside
of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I turned
around, I smelled a horrible “dirty body” smell, and there
standing behind me were two poor homeless men.
As I looked down at the short gentleman close to me, he
was “smiling.” His beautiful sky-blue eyes were full of God’s
Light as he searched for acceptance.
He said, “Good day,” as he counted the few coins he had
been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as
he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was
mentally challenged and the blue-eyed gentleman was his
guardian. I held back my tears as I stood there with them. The
young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted.
He said, “Coffee is all, Miss,” because that was all they
could afford. If they wanted to sit in the restaurant and warm
up, they had to buy something. He just wanted to be warm.
Then I really felt it — the compulsion was so great I almost
reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes.
That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on
me, judging my every action. I smiled and asked the young
lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals
on a separate tray.
I then walked around the corner to the table that the men
had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and
laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman’s cold hand.

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Thank
you.”
I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, “I did not do
this for you. God is here working through me to give you
hope.”
I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and
son. When I sat down, my husband smiled at me and said,
“That is why God gave you to me, Honey. To give me hope.”
We held hands for a moment and we knew that only because
of the Grace that we had been given were we able to give.
That day showed me the pure Light of God’s sweet love.
I returned to college on the last evening of class with this
story in hand. I turned in my “project” and the instructor read
it. Then she looked up at me and said, “Can I share this?” I
slowly nodded and she got the attention of the class.
She began to read and that is when I knew that all of us, as
human beings and children of God, share this need to heal
people and to be healed.
In my own way I had touched the people at the restaurant,
my husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared the
classroom on the last night I spent as a college student. I
graduated with one of the greatest lessons I would ever learn:
unconditional acceptance.
Don’t love things and use people,
But use things and love people.
Giving Again
What, giving again?” I asked in dismay.
“And must I keep giving and giving away?”
“Oh, no,” said the angel, piercing me through,
“Just give till the Father stops giving to you.”
Compliments Count
O NE day a teacher asked her students to list the names of

the other students in the room on two sheets of paper,
leaving a space between each name.
Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could
say about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish their as-
signment and, as the students left the room, each one handed
in their papers.
That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each
student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what every-
one else had said about that individual.
On Monday, she gave each student his or her list. Before
long, the entire class was smiling. “Really?” she heard whis-
pered. “I never knew that meant anything to anyone!” and
“I didn’t know others liked me so much” were some of the
comments.
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She
never knew if they discussed them after class or with their
parents, but it didn’t matter. The exercise had accomplished
its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and
one another.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, one
of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher at-
tended the funeral of that special student.
She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before.
He looked so handsome, so mature.
The church was packed with his friends. One by one,
those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The
teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.
As she stood there, one of the soldiers, who acted as a pall-
bearer, came up to her. “Were you Mark’s math teacher?” he
asked. She nodded “Yes.” Then he said, “Mark talked about
you a lot.”
After the funeral, most of Mark’s former classmates went
together to a luncheon. Mark’s mother and father were there,
obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.
“We want to show you something,” his father said, taking
a wallet out of his pocket. “They found this on Mark when he

was killed. We thought you might recognize it.”
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed a worn piece of
note paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded
many times.
The teacher knew, without looking, that the paper was the
one on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark’s
classmates had said about him.
“Thank you so much for doing that,” Mark’s mother said.
“As you can see, Mark treasured it.”
All of Mark’s former classmates started to gather around.
Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my list.
It’s in the top drawer of my desk at home.”
Chuck’s wife said, “Chuck asked me to put his in our wed-
ding album.” “I have mine, too,” Marilyn said. “It’s in my
diary.”
Then Vickie, another classmate, reached into her pocket-
book, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled
list to the group. “I carry this with me at all times,” Vickie said,
and without batting an eyelash, she continued: “I think we all
saved our lists.”
That’s when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She
cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see
him again.
Life can get so hectic that we forget that life will end one
day, and we don’t know when that one day will be.
So please, tell the people you love and care for that they are
special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.
2
Trust in the
LORD
with all
your heart
P ROV E R B S 3 : 5
A Pearl Necklace
L ITTLE Molly was a bright-eyed, pretty five-year-old. One

day when she and her mother were at the supermarket,
Molly saw a plastic pearl necklace priced at $10. How she
wanted that necklace! When she asked her mother if she
would buy it for her, her mother said, “Well, it is a pretty neck-
lace, but it costs an awful lot of money. I’ll tell you what. I’ll
buy you the necklace, and when we get home we can make
up a list of chores that you can do to pay for it. Also, your
grandma just might give you some money for your birthday.
Okay?”
Molly agreed, and her mother bought the necklace. The
little girl worked on her chores very hard every day. And, sure
enough, her grandma did give her some money for her birth-
day. Soon, Molly had paid for her cherished necklace.
How Molly loved those plastic pearls! She wore them
everywhere — to kindergarten, when she went out with her
mother to run errands, and even to bed. The only time she
didn’t wear them was in the shower — her mother had told
her the clasp would turn her neck green!
Now Molly had a very loving father. Every night when
she went to bed, he would get up from his comfortable chair,
come to her room, and read one of her favorite stories.
One night, when he had finished a story, he made an un-
usual and difficult request of Molly.
“Molly, do you love me?”
“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you.”
“Well, then, give me your pearls.”
“Oh Daddy, not my pearls! But you can have Rosie, my fa-
vorite doll. Remember her? You gave her to me last year for
my birthday. And you can have her tea party outfit, too.”
“No, darling, that’s okay. Good night, my precious little one.”
Her father brushed her cheek with a kiss and returned to his
favorite chair.
A week later, after he had read her a story, Molly’s father
once again made that challenging request.
“Do you love me, Molly?”
“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you.”
2 : Trust in the LORD with all your heart 21
“Well, then, give me your pearls.”

“Oh Daddy, not my pearls! But you can have Ribbons, my
toy horse. Do you remember her? She’s my favorite. Her hair
is so soft, and you can play with it and braid it and everything.
You can have Ribbons if you want her, Daddy.”
“No, that’s okay. God bless you, little one. Sweet dreams.”
Her father brushed her cheek again with a kiss and left the
room.
Several days later, when Molly’s father came as usual to
read her a story, the little girl was sitting on her bed, her lip
trembling.
“Daddy, I do love you. Here.”
Molly held out her small hand. In it was her beloved neck-
lace. She let it slip into her father’s outstretched fingers.
With one hand he held the plastic pearls and with the other
he pulled out of his pocket a blue velvet box. Inside of the
box was a string of beautifully matched pearls. Real pearls!
He had had them all along! He was waiting for Molly to give
up the man-made plastic imitation so he could give her the
real thing.
So it is with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to
give up the earthly things in our lives so he may give us a
beautiful treasure in heaven.
Father, Are You There?
I remember, many years ago, a little boy on a trundle bed,

having just retired for the night. Before going to sleep he
turned in the direction of the large bed on which his father lay
and said, “Father, are you there?” And the answer came back,
“Yes, my son.” I remember that the boy turned over and went
to sleep without thought of harm. Now that boy is an old
man of seventy, and every night before going to sleep he looks
up into the face of his Heavenly Father and says, “Father, are
you there? Will you take care of me tonight?” And the answer
comes back clear and strong, “Yes, my son.” Whom need we
fear if God our Father be with us?
Flying Blind
I watched an airliner take off under cloudy skies, climb

rapidly into gray mists, and disappear. It was flying “on
the beam.” For all of us at times, life is a flight into mists of
uncertainty and fogs of confusion. We can no more stop living
at such times than an airplane can stop flying. We must go on,
even if it means “flying blind.”
We need not be helpless at such times. God forever “sends
out his light and truth” like a radio beam to “bring us to his
holy hill, and to his dwelling place.” “Thine ears shall hear
a word behind thee, saying, ‘This is the way, walk ye in it,’
when ye turn to the right hand and when ye turn to the left.”
Fly Like an Eagle
D ID you know that an eagle knows when a storm is

approaching long before it breaks? The eagle will fly to
some high spot and wait for the winds to come.
When the storm hits, the eagle sets its wings so that the
wind will pick it up and lift it above the storm. While the
storm rages below, the eagle is soaring above it.
The eagle does not escape the storm. It simply uses the storm
to lift it higher. It rises on the winds that bring the storm.
When the storms of life come upon us — and all of us will
experience them — we can rise above them by setting our
minds and our belief toward God. The storms do not have
to overcome us. We can allow God’s power to lift us above
them. God enables us to ride the winds of the storms that
bring sickness, tragedy, failure and disappointment into our
lives. We can soar above the storm.
Remember, it is not the burdens of life that weigh us down,
it is how we handle them. The Bible says, “Those who hope
in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings
like eagles.”—Isaiah 40:31
Under His Wings
A N article in National Geographic several years ago pro-

vided an interesting picture of God’s wings. After a
forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began
their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno’s damage.
One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched
statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat
sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked the bird over with a
stick. When he gently struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from
under their dead mother’s wings.
The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had
carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered
them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic
smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but had
refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze arrived and
the heat scorched her small body, the mother had remained
steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, those under the
cover of her wings would live.
“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings
you will find refuge …”—Psalm 91:4
Adding Burden to Burden
A dear old saint complained about the burdens he was

called upon to bear. He had noted another Christian
who had no cross at all, while he himself carried the weight
of two. So he asked Jehovah why he had to bear two crosses,
while the other bore none. The Lord made no reply, but added
to the burden upon him. Thinking that the Lord had not heard
him, he again importuned the Lord. This time the Lord re-
sponded. He told him that the other Christian was yet too weak
for the burden of a cross, whereas he was being made stronger
by the bearing of the added burden! And isn’t it the strong
who are admonished to bear the infirmities of the weak?
(Romans 15:1) Paul also says that we are to bear one another’s
burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:2)
Seven Ups Guaranteed to Lift Your Day…
1 Wake Up.
Decide to have a good day. “Today is the day the LORD
hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”—Psalm 118:24
2 Dress Up.
Put on a smile. A smile is an inexpensive way to
improve your looks. “The LORD does not look at the
things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appear-
ance; but the LORD looks at the heart.” —I Samuel 16:7
3 Shut Up.
Say nice things and learn to listen. God gave us two
ears and one mouth, so he must have meant for us to
do twice as much listening as talking. “He who guards
4
his lips guards his soul.”—Proverbs 13:3.
Stand Up.
For what you believe in. Stand for something or you
will fall for anything. “Let us not be weary in doing
good; for at the proper time, we will reap a harvest if
we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportu-
nity, let us do good.”—Galatians 6:9-10
5 Look Up.
To the Lord. “I can do everything through Christ who
6
strengthens me.”—Philippians 4:13
Reach Up.
For something higher. “Trust in the LORD with all your
heart, and lean not unto your own understanding. In
all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct
your path.”—Proverbs 3:5-6
7 Lift Up.
Your prayers. “Do not worry about anything; instead,
pray about everything.”—Philippians 4:6
Walking to Scranton
A station agent at Bloomsbury, New Jersey, saw a man

walking on the tracks of the Lehigh Valley railroad.
On his back he carried a huge package, apparently contain-
ing utensils as well as clothes. He seemed tired. The agent
stopped him and ordered him off the tracks, telling him that
he was liable to arrest for trespassing, besides the risk of be-
ing killed by a train. The man, a foreigner, demurred, and
produced a railroad ticket good from Jersey City to Scranton,
Pennsylvania. The agent looked at him in amazement and
asked him why he was walking when he might ride. The man
replied that he thought the ticket only gave him the privilege
of walking along the road. His right was explained to him, and
the tired man delightedly boarded the first train that stopped.
How many of us Christians make the same mistake! Our
Lord wants to bear all our burdens and give us continual free-
dom from care and from the power of sin.
Take the Burden Off Your Back
A man who was toiling along the road under a heavy

burden was overtaken by a kindly driver, who offered
him a lift along his way. He joyfully accepted the offer but
continued to bend beneath his burden, which he still kept on
his back. “Why do you not lay down your burden?” asked
the kind-hearted driver. “Oh!” replied the man, “I feel that it
is almost too much to ask you to carry my burden, too.” And
so Christians, who have given themselves into the care and
keeping of the Lord Jesus, still continue to bend beneath the
weight of their burdens, and often go weary and heavy-laden
throughout the whole length of their journey.
Creeping Across the Ice
I N the early days of migration to the West, a traveler once

came for the first time in his life to the banks of the mighty
Mississippi. There was no bridge. He must cross. It was early
winter, and the surface of the mighty river was sheeted with
ice. He knew nothing of its thickness, however, and feared to
trust himself to it. He hesitated long, but night was coming
on and he must reach the other shore. At length, with many
fears and infinite caution, he crept out on his hands and knees,
thinking thus to distribute his weight as much as possible.
When he had thus painfully crossed half-way over, he heard
a sound of singing behind him. There in the dusk was a man
driving a four-horse load of coal across the ice, singing as he
went!
Many a Christian creeps trembling out upon God’s prom-
ises, where another, stronger in faith, goes singing through
life, upheld by the same word. “Have faith in God.” “Whoso
putteth his trust in Jehovah shall be safe.”
The Glass Between
O NCE when I was staying in a hotel in England, a lady

guest said she was awakened by a very strange noise of
pecking or something of the kind. When she got up, she saw
a butterfly flying back and forth inside the windowpane in a
great fright, and outside a sparrow pecking and trying to get in.
The butterfly did not see the glass, and expected every minute
to be caught, and the sparrow did not see the glass, and ex-
pected every minute to get the butterfly. Yet all the while, that
butterfly was as safe as if it had been millions of miles away,
because of the glass between it and the sparrow. So it is with
Christians. Satan cannot touch the soul that has the Lord Jesus
Christ between itself and the devil.
Too Small to Turn the Door Knob
A Methodist minister tells a story of his daughter who,

wishing to speak to him one day when he was in his
study, came up the stairs and, finding the door closed, put her
small hand on the door knob. The child’s hand was too tiny to
grasp the handle firmly enough to turn it. To her delight, how-
ever, the handle turned, the door opened, and she ran into the
study exclaiming, “Oh, Daddy, I have opened the door all by
myself!” She was all unaware that her father, hearing her try-
ing to open the door, had quietly gotten up from his chair and
turned the handle from the inside. Thus God helps us when
we do our best, and he makes the impossible possible. “I can
do all things through Christ which strengthens me.”
A Father’s Care
T HE story is told of a young lad who was put on a railroad

train by his father and sent on a journey to the home of
his aunt in the city. As the boy entered the train, he was great-
ly troubled at the thought of what might happen to him while
on the train and when he arrived at his destination. But he
soon found that all his worrying was for nothing. No sooner
had the train started than the conductor came up and spoke
to him very kindly. Then the newsboy brought him apples,
candy, and picture books to look at. So the time passed very
pleasantly and quickly. When he arrived at the city, a cabman
was at the gate to meet him and to take him safely to his
aunt’s home. The boy couldn’t understand it. He thought it
was a miracle.
But as he grew older, he learned that it was his father who
had told the conductor to look after the boy, who gave money
to the newsboy to supply his wants, and who had telegraphed
ahead to a cab company to send a man to meet his boy at the
station. Because his father was on the job, all his needs had
been provided for.
Faith is a Glass Floor
S UDDENLY the steering doesn’t work. I try to negotiate

the turn, but our car spins off the road, off the edge of a
cliff — a cliff so high that there is ample time for sheer terror
as we fall. I want to scream, but I can’t. I find myself standing,
foolishly, on the brakes. The car noses down nearly vertically,
and then begins a mid-air tumble. My family is shouting sug-
gestions. I lurch awake in a cold sweat, the victim of another
nightmare of falling.
As long as I can remember, I’ve had a mortal fear of heights.
As a consequence, I often find myself in very high places (usu-
ally with my kids) as I deliberately challenge this fear: driving
a bridge span, walking out on a windswept balcony, careening
around in a roller coaster, flying in a small plane. The desen-
sitization has, over the years, worked well enough to change
my behavior, but not my feelings. Nothing seems to destroy
that small hard kernel of fear.
I recently found myself at the top of the tallest human-made
structure in the world, the CN Tower, which is the premier
landmark of Toronto.
One section of that tower has a glass floor which allows
you to view the world hundreds of meters below you from
between your feet. It was fascinating to watch people’s re-
actions. Some stepped out calmly onto the floor with a look
that reflected their puzzlement: Why was this such a big deal?
Others stepped more gingerly, but rapidly gained confidence.
Still others just watched for several minutes before they even
tried to participate. Some, no matter how much they were
coaxed, absolutely refused even to try.
I stood at the edge, frozen. I was incapable of taking a step
over the void, a step where the bottom dropped out of the
world. It didn’t matter what my mind dictated. I knew it was
safe. I knew that it would hold me. I knew that it was as
sound as the solid floor upon which I stood. I could see others
enjoying the experience. It didn’t matter. The fear was so vis-
ceral, so physical, so commanding, I couldn’t move my feet.
Finally, I simply closed my eyes, took three steps forward
onto the glass, and then and only then, I looked. There be-
tween my dusty shoes was as much straight downness as

I’ve ever seen. I forced myself again and again to step and look
and step and look until the fear was replaced with an excite-
ment and wonder.
We are taught from birth how to become responsible
citizens, capable of meeting our own needs and ordering
our lives. We learn how to take control, to plan, to execute
our plans. Everything in our life’s training, our education, our
socialization is directed toward making us self-sufficient,
efficient, effective people. Most of us build strong floors upon
which to stand, and we feel comfortable and confident that
they will, in most of life, sustain us.
Faith, on the other hand, is a glass floor. God calls us to be-
come again “as children,” giving up our control and our plans
and our effectiveness to do the Divine Will on earth. God calls
us out into the places where we are suspended over the very
pits of hell, the places where we gain a sickeningly realistic
perspective of our vulnerability. God calls us to trust, to step
out into what we most fear, to conquer evil in this world.
It’s been said that the most revealing microscope we each
have into our own soul is that which provokes our fear or
anger. If, with God’s assistance, we meet what we most want
to avoid, we are marching forward in faith. If we trust all of
our lives to the Architect, we will find that the mansions Jesus
prepares for us are all glass — glass to let in the Light, glass
to reveal our innermost selves, glass to step out onto in faith.
Pat Grauer
Washing Away the Scars in the Sand
D R. J. F. Carson has a message for the penitent. God’s mer-

cy is like the tireless patience of the sea. The children dig
deep wounds in the sand with their spades, leaving scars on
the golden surface. Then quietly the old sea turns, and every
trace of scar is obliterated, and the shining surface of the sand
is smooth as ever. Day after day the scene is repeated, and the
sea is never tired of putting things to rights … It is an emblem
of the everlasting God who fainteth not, neither is weary.
A Grandmother’s Promise
W HEN my son was about ten years of age, his grand-

mother promised him a stamp album for Christmas.
Christmas came, but no stamp album, and no word from
Grandmother. The matter, however, was not mentioned; but
when his playmates came to see his Christmas presents, I was
astonished, after he had named the other gifts received, to
hear him add, “And a stamp album from Grandmother.”
After I had heard it several times, I called him to me and said,
“But, Georgie, you did not get an album from your grandmoth-
er. Why do you say so?”
There was a wondering look on his face, as if he thought
it strange that I should ask such a question, and he replied,
“Well, Mama, Grandma said, so it is the same as …” I could not
say a word to check his faith.
A month went by and nothing was heard about the album.
Finally, one day, to test his faith, and really wondering in my
heart why the album had not been sent, I said, “Well, Georgie,
I think Grandma has forgotten her promise.” “Oh, no, Mama,”
he quickly and firmly said, “she hasn’t.”
I watched the dear, trusting face, which looked very sober
for a while, then brightened as he said, “Mama, do you think
it would do any good if I should write to her, thanking her for
the album?” “I do not know,” I said, “but you might try it.”
A rich spiritual truth began to dawn upon me. In a few min-
utes a letter was prepared and committed to the mail, and
Georgie went off whistling his confidence in his grandma. In
just a short time a letter came back saying, “My dear Georgie:
I have not forgotten my promise to you of an album. I tried to
get such a book as you desired, but could not get the sort you
wanted; so I sent to New York. It did not get here until after
Christmas, and it still was not right, so I sent for another. As it
has not come as yet, I am sending you three dollars to get one
in Chicago. Your loving Grandma.”
As he read the letter, his face was the face of a victor. “Now,
Mama, didn’t I tell you!” came the words from the
depths of a heart that never doubted, that against hope, be-
lieved in hope that the stamp album would come. While he
was trusting, Grandma was working, and in due season faith

became sight.
It is so human to want sight when we step out on the prom-
ises of God, but our Savior said to Thomas, and to the long
line of doubters who have since followed him: “Blessed are
they who have not seen, and yet have believed.”
Making the Waves Come In
A boy was sailing his first toy boat when suddenly the
string dropped from his hand. In spite of his frantic at-
tempts to regain it, the boat was soon far beyond his reach.
He then appealed to his older brother to get it back for him.
Without comment, the bigger boy picked up rocks and began
throwing them just beyond the boat. It seemed to the little
fellow that his brother had paid no attention to his pleas — in
fact, it looked as though he was making matters worse. But
then the lad noticed that the first rock hit the water and set up
a little wave. Each succeeding rock added to the waves that
were bringing the little boat nearer and nearer to shore. The
thing that threatened destruction saved the little boat.
It may seem that disaster follows disaster many times in
our lives, and there is no apparent reason for it. But the waves
that seem to mean complete destruction may in reality bring
us closer to God. The Prophet of old declared, “Behold, God is
my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid.”—Isaiah 12:2
Photographs Develop in Darkness
T HE photographer takes his sensitive plate into a dark

place to develop his picture. Sunlight would mar it. God
often draws the curtain upon us, and in the darkness brings
out some rare beauty in our life, some delicate feature of his
own loveliness.
The Creator won’t ask…

o What kind of car you drove, but will ask how many people
you drove who didn’t have transportation.
o The square footage of your house, but will ask how many
people you welcomed into your home.
o How many fancy clothes you had in your closet, but will
ask how many of those clothes helped the needy.
o About your social status, but will ask what kind of class
you displayed.
o How many material possessions you had, but will ask if
they dictated your life.
o What your highest salary was, but will ask if you compro-
mised your character to obtain that salary.
o How much overtime you worked, but will ask if you
worked overtime for your family and loved ones.
o How many promotions you received, but will ask how
you promoted others.
o What your job title was, but will ask if you performed your
job to the best of your ability.
o What you did to help yourself, but will ask what you did
to help others.
o How many friends you had, but will ask how many people
to whom you were a true friend.
o What you did to protect your rights, but will ask what you
did to protect the rights of others.
o In what neighborhood you lived, but will ask how you
treated your neighbors.
o About the color of your skin, but will ask about the
content of your character.
o How many times your deeds matched your words, but
will ask how many times they didn’t.
When there is nothing left but the Creator, that is when
you find out the Creator is all you need.
Don’t Quit Playing
W ISHING to encourage her young son’s progress on the

piano, a mother took the small boy to a Paderewski
concert. After they were seated, the mother spotted a friend in
the audience and walked down the aisle to greet her.
Seizing the opportunity to explore the wonders of the con-
cert hall, the little boy rose and eventually explored his way
through a door marked “NO ADMITTANCE.”
When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about
to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that
her son was missing.
Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the
impressive Steinway on stage.
In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the key-
board, innocently picking out “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance,
quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy’s ear,
“Don’t quit. Keep playing.”
Then, leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his
left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm
reached around to the other side of the child and he added a
running obligato.
Together, the old master and the young novice transformed
a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience.
The audience was mesmerized.
That’s the way it is with God. What we can accomplish on
our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results
aren’t exactly graceful flowing music; but with the help of the
Master, our life’s work truly can be beautiful.
Next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen care-
fully. You can hear the voice of the Master, whispering in your
ear, “Don’t quit. Keep playing.” Feel his loving arms around
you. Know that his strong hands are playing the concerto
of your life. Remember, God doesn’t call the equipped, he
equips the called.
A Finger, then a Hand
I remember one time my daughter was begging her mother

to get her a muff, and so one day her mother brought a
muff home. Although it was storming, my daughter naturally
wanted to go out to try her new muff, so she asked me to go
out with her. As we went out, I said, “Emma, better let me
take your hand.” She wanted to keep her hands in her muff,
so she refused to take my hand. Well, by and by she came
to an icy place, her little feet slipped — and down she went.
When I helped her up she said, “Papa, you may give me your
little finger.” “No, my daughter, just take my hand.” “No, no,
Papa, give me your little finger.” Well, I gave my little finger to
her, and for a little way she got along nicely, but pretty soon
we came to another icy place and again she fell. This time she
hurt herself a little, and she said, “Papa, give me your hand.” I
gave her my hand, closed my fingers about her wrist, and held
her up so that she could not fall. Just so, God is our keeper.
He is wiser than we. And he can keep us from falling — if we
hold onto his hand.
The Ant and the Contact Lens
B RENDA was a young woman who was invited to go rock

climbing. Although she was very scared, she went with
her group to a tremendous granite cliff. In spite of her fear,
she put on the gear, took hold of the rope, and started up the
face of that rock.
In time, she reached a ledge where she could take a breath-
er. As she was resting there, the safety rope snapped against
Brenda’s eye and knocked out her contact lens.
Well, here she is, on a rock ledge, with hundreds of feet of
cliff below her and hundreds of feet above her. She looked
and looked, hoping the lens had landed on the ledge, but it
just wasn’t there.
Far from home, her sight now blurry, Brenda was desperate
and began to get upset, so she prayed to the Lord to help her
to find the lens.
When she got to the top, a friend examined her eye and
her clothing for the lens, but there was no contact lens to be
found. She sat down, despondent, waiting for the rest of the
party to make it up the face of the cliff.
Brenda looked out across range after range of mountains,
thinking of that verse that says, “The eyes of the Lord run to
and fro throughout the whole earth.” She thought, “LORD, you
can see all these mountains. You know every stone and leaf, and
you know exactly where my contact lens is. Please help me.”
Finally, they walked down the trail to the bottom. At the
bottom there was a new party of climbers just starting up the
face of the cliff. One of them shouted out, “Hey, you guys!
Anybody lose a contact lens?”
Well, that would be startling enough, but you know why
the climber saw it?
An ant was moving slowly across the face of the rock,
carrying the lens on its back!
Brenda told me that her father is a cartoonist. When she told
him the incredible story of the ant, the prayer, and the contact
lens, he drew a picture of an ant lugging that contact lens with
the words, “Lord, I don’t know why you want me to carry
this thing. I can’t eat it, and it’s awfully heavy. But if this is
what you want me to do, I’ll carry it for you.”
I think it would probably do some of us good to occasion-
ally say, “God, I don’t know why you want me to carry this
load. I can see no good in it and it’s awfully heavy. But if you
want me to carry it, I will.”
God doesn’t call the qualified, he qualifies the called.
Do not be
3
Wise
in your own
eyes
P ROV E R B S 3 : 7
Final Exam
A T Duke University, there were four sophomores taking

Organic Chemistry. They were doing so well on all the
quizzes, midterms and labs that each had an “A” so far for the
semester.
These four friends were so confident that, the weekend
before finals, they decided to go up to the University of Vir-
ginia and party with some friends there.
They had a great time, but after all the hearty partying, they
slept all day Sunday and didn’t make it back to Duke until
early Monday morning.
Rather than taking the chemistry final then, they decided to
find their professor after the final and explain to him why they
missed it.
They explained that they had gone to UVA for the weekend
with the plan to come back in time to study, but, unfortu-
nately, they had gotten a flat tire on the way back, didn’t have
a spare, and couldn’t get help for a long time. As a result, they
missed the final.
The professor thought it over and then agreed they could
make up the final the following day. The guys were elated
and relieved.
They studied that night and went in the next day at the
appointed time. The professor placed them in separate rooms,
handed each of them a test booklet, and told them to begin.
They looked at the first problem, worth five points. It was
something simple about free radical formation. “Cool,” they
thought, each one in his separate room, “this is going to be
easy.”
Each finished the problem and then turned the page.
On the second page was written: “For 95 points: Which tire?”
A Cucumber in a Bottle
“W H E N I was a little boy,” remarked an old man, “some-
body gave me a cucumber in a bottle. The neck of the
bottle was small, and the cucumber so large it wasn’t possible
for it to pass through, and I wondered how it got there. But
3 : Do not be wise in your own eyes 39
out in the garden one day I came upon a bottle slipped over a
little green sprout, and then I understood. The cucumber had
grown in the bottle. And now I often see men with habits that
I wonder any strong, sensible man could form, and then I think
that likely they grew into them when they were young, and
cannot slip out of them now. They are like the cucumber.”
At the End of the Tunnel
I N the not too distant past, our railroad trains were equipped
with kerosene lamps, lighted only after the darkness had set
in. Unlike the electric lights on our modern trains, the kero-
sene lamps each had to be individually lighted by the porter.
Sometimes, during the day, a train had to pass through dark
tunnels. Because these periods were comparatively short, the
lamps were not lighted at such times. The people would sit
in the darkness, awaiting the light as the train emerged from
the tunnel.
On one of these train trips, a little girl was running up and
down the length of the train, very much to the dismay of her
mother, who had time and time again asked her to sit down
beside her, so that she would not fall and hurt herself if the
train should suddenly lurch around a curve. However, the
little girl was too busy enjoying herself and did not heed her
mother’s request. Suddenly, the train entered one of these
dark tunnels, plunging from the brightness of noonday into
the darkness of midnight. Everything went quiet; the little
girl’s laughter and the patter of her feet could no longer be
heard. Everyone wondered what had happened to her, until
the train emerged into the light again, when, lo and behold,
there sat the girl on her mother’s lap, her little arms tightly
clasped about her mother’s neck!
How often we, too, are so childish in our pursuits — want-
ing to have our own way — until some trial, some tragedy,
some bereavement, sends us scurrying back to the Father’s
bosom.
A. C. Frey
Acres of Diamonds
T HERE once lived, not far from the River Indus, an ancient
Persian by the name of Al Hafed. Al Hafed owned a very
large farm, with orchards, grain fields, and gardens. He was
a wealthy and contented man: contented because he was
wealthy, and wealthy because he was contented.
One day there visited that old Persian farmer an ancient
Buddhist priest, one of the wise men of the East. He sat down
by the fire and told the old farmer how this world of ours
was made. He said that this world was once a mere bank of
fog, and that the Almighty thrust his finger into this bank
of fog, and began slowly to move his finger around, increas-
ing the speed until at last he whirled this fog into a solid ball
of fire. Then it went rolling through the universe, burning its
way through other banks of fog, and condensed the moisture
without, until it fell in floods of rain upon its hot surface, and
cooled the outer crust. Then the internal fires, bursting out-
ward through the crust, threw up the mountains and hills
and valleys, the plains and prairies of this wonderful world
of ours. If this internal molten mass came bursting out and
cooled very quickly, it became granite; less quickly, copper;
less quickly, silver; less quickly, gold; and after gold, diamonds
were made.
Said the old priest, “A diamond is a congealed drop of sun-
light.” The old priest told Al Hafed that if he had one diamond
the size of his thumb he could purchase the country, and if
he had a mine of diamonds he could place his children upon
thrones through the influence of their great wealth.
Al Hafed heard all about the diamonds, how much they were
worth, and went to his bed that night a poor man. He had not
lost anything, but he was poor because he was discontented,
and discontented because he feared he was poor. He said, “I
want a mine of diamonds,” and he lay awake all night.
Early in the morning, he sought out the priest. “Will you tell
me where I can find diamonds?”
“Diamonds! What do you want with diamonds?”
“Why, I wish to be immensely rich, but I don’t know where
to look.”
“Well, if you will find a river that runs through white sands,
between high mountains, in those white sands you will
always find diamonds.”
“I don’t believe there is any such river.”
“Oh, yes, there are plenty of them. All you have to do is go
and find them, and then you will have them.”
Said Al Hafed, “I will go.”
So he sold his farm, collected his money, left his family in
the charge of a neighbor, and went off in search of diamonds.
He began his search, very properly, at the Mountains of the
Moon. Afterward he came around into Palestine, then wan-
dered on into Europe, and at last, when his money was all
spent and he was in rags, wretchedness, and poverty, he stood
on the shore of that bay at Barcelona, in Spain, when a great
tidal wave came rolling in between the pillars of Hercules.
The poor, afflicted, suffering man could not resist the awful
temptation to cast himself into that incoming tide, and he
sank beneath its foaming crest, never to rise again.
The man who purchased Al Hafed’s farm one day led his
camel into the garden to drink, and as that camel put its nose
into the shallow water of that garden brook, Al Hafed’s suc-
cessor noticed a curious flash of light from the white sands of
the stream. He pulled out a black stone having an eye of light
reflecting all the hues of the rainbow. He took the pebble into
the house and put it on the mantel and then forgot all about it.
A few days later, the same old priest came to visit Al Hafed’s
successor. The moment he entered the drawing-room, he saw
that flash of light on the mantel, and he rushed up to it and
shouted, “Here is a diamond! Has Al Hafed returned?”
“Oh, no, Al Hafed has not returned, and that is not a dia-
mond. That is nothing but a stone we found right out here in
our own garden.”
“But,” said the priest, “I tell you I know a diamond when I
see it. I know positively that this is a diamond.”
Then together they rushed out into the garden and stirred
up the white sands with their fingers, and lo! there came up
other more beautiful gems than the first. Thus was discov-
ered the diamond mine of Golconda, the most magnificent
diamond mine in all the history of mankind, excelling the
Kimberly itself. The Kohinoor and the Orloff, of the crown

jewels of England and Russia, the largest on earth, came from
that mine.
Had Al Hafed remained at home and dug in his own cel-
lar, or underneath his own wheat fields, or in his own garden,
instead of wretchedness, starvation, and death by suicide in
a strange land, he would have had “acres of diamonds.” For
every acre of that old farm, yes, every shovelful, afterward
revealed gems which since have decorated the crowns of
monarchs.
Russell Conwell, “Acres of Diamonds”
The Atmosphere of Faith
D ESPITE the presence of many suns in the universe, and

the continual radiation from them of electromagnetic
energy, outer space is dark and cold. It is our atmosphere that
has much, if not everything, to do with the converting of the
sun’s electromagnetic rays into light and heat, making life pos-
sible on this planet.
Some years ago, two Russian cosmonauts, having ascended
into outer space, on their return to the earth declared that
they could find no evidence of God up there. On the other
hand, the American astronauts, having ascended into the
same outer space, on their return to the earth said that they
had seen evidence of God all about them while up there!
The difference? The Russians lacked the atmosphere of faith,
which the Americans had, and were therefore unable to rec-
ognize God anywhere. The Apostle Paul spoke truly when he
declared, “he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and
that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.”
—Hebrews 11:6
A. C. Frey
Using Love to Obtain
T HERE was once a little girl who knew the way to get
just what she wanted from her daddy. If it was a pair of
skates, or a new hat, she came rushing up to him as he sat in
his easy chair, and nestling in his arms said, “Daddy, I love you
so. You are the best daddy ever. I would just do anything for
you.” Then, sooner or later, when she wanted something very
badly, in the end Daddy would pay. There were other times
when errands were waiting for someone to run them, or when
Daddy was tired and wanted quiet, that his little girl seemed
to forget how much she loved him. Of course, she was just a
thoughtless young lady, and not consciously hypocritical. She
was also quite, quite human. Many of the sons and daughters
of Adam find creeds easier than conduct, promises simpler
than performance, and loving words cheaper than loving
deeds.
The Lad at the Helm
I remember, when sailing one day on a steamer, the captain’s

son, a bright little fellow of five or six years of age, was on
board, and he wanted to take the place of the man at the helm.
The good-natured steersman, to humor him, put the spoke of
the wheel into the boy’s little hand, which was hardly able
to grasp it. But the man was careful at the same time to put
his own big hand on the child’s tiny fingers and to take a firm
hold. The boy was in high glee, imagining that he himself was
steering the huge steamer. Now, so God deals with you. He
puts his Almighty hand on your feeble hand when you are
trying to rule your own spirit and makes his strength perfect
in your weakness.
Sin of Lying
A minister told his congregation, “Next week I plan to

preach about the sin of lying. To help you understand
my sermon, I want you all to read Mark 17.”
The following Sunday, as he prepared to deliver his sermon,
the minister asked for a show of hands. He wanted to know
how many had read Mark 17. Every hand went up. The min-
ister smiled and said, “Mark has only 16 chapters. I will now
proceed with my sermon on the sin of lying.”
The Globe that “Just Happened”
T HE kindness and generosity of Robert G. Ingersol won for

him many friends who nevertheless deeply regretted his
opinions. Among these was Henry Ward Beecher. In the study
of the famous preacher was an elaborate celestial globe that
had been sent to him with the compliments of its manufactur-
er. On its surface, in delicate workmanship, were raised figures
of the constellations and the stars which composed them. The
globe struck Ingersol’s fancy. He turned it around with admira-
tion. “This is just what I want,” he said. “Who made it?” “Who
made it, do you say, Colonel?” repeated Beecher. “Who made
this globe? Why, nobody, of course. It just happened.”
The Wrong Definition of Conscience
A girl was asked what conscience was, and she gravely

replied, “It’s something inside of me that tells me when
Johnny does wrong.”
That kind of conscience is very common, but not par-
ticularly useful in reforming one’s own life. There are many
people, however, who base their assurance of their own high
moral standards on their swift perception of other people’s
wrongdoing.
Reversing the Hands of the Watch
I have a watch here — when wound up, it runs straight for-

ward until it needs winding. By a fixed law, in conformity
with the very structure of the timepiece, its hands move only
in one direction while they move at all. Yet when I find that
it is too fast, I move the hands backward; I interrupt the usual
movement, but I violate no law. The watch could not have
turned back its own hands and corrected itself, but a superior
intelligence interferes for a proper end. Have I suspended or
violated any law? Or have I simply brought a new law to bear
which, though not in ordinary operation, is entirely consistent
with the laws which govern the movements of the watch?
As I examine more minutely the structure of this delicate
mechanism, I observe a remarkable fact: the maker of this
watch has made provision for just such a reversal of that law
by which both minute and hour hands move only forward.
He has provided for a backward movement, when the intel-
ligent owner chooses, without any interference with this
exquisite arrangement. While I turn back the hands I disturb
no wheel, and there is not even one tick the less; and yet, left
to themselves, the hands of that watch never could change
their direction of movement.
Who is competent to say that, when God reverses the hands
on the great dial of nature, he has made no provision for such
reversal?
Are You a Pumpkin?
A woman was asked by a co-worker, “What is it like to

be a Christian?”
The woman replied, “It is like being a pumpkin. God picks
you from the patch, brings you in, and washes all the dirt off
of you. Then he cuts off the top and scoops out all the yucky
stuff. He removes the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc. Then he
carves you a new smiling face and puts his light inside of you
to shine for all the world to see.”
Darwinian vs. God Contest
O NE day, a group of Darwinian scientists got together and

decided that man had come a long way and no longer
needed God. So they picked one Darwinian to go and tell God
that they were done with him.
The Darwinian walked up to God and said, “God, we’ve
decided that we no longer need you. We’re to the point that
we can clone people and do many miraculous things, so why
don’t you just go on and get lost?”
God listened very patiently and kindly to the man. After the
Darwinian was done talking, God said, “Very well, how about
this? Let’s say we have a man-making contest.” The Darwin-
ian happily agreed.
God added, “Now, we’re going to do this just like I did back
in the old days with Adam.”
The Darwinian said, “Sure, no problem,” and bent down
and grabbed a handful of dirt.
God looked at him and said, “No, no, no. You go make your
own dirt.”
Assembling a Meat-Chopper
A successful cutlery manufacturer, who in his youth

hated and despised God, once said:
“It takes a girl in our factory about two days to learn to put
the seventeen parts of a meat-chopper together efficiently! It
may be that these millions of worlds, each with its own orbit,
all so wonderfully balanced in space — it may be that they just
happened. It may be that by tumbling about for a billion years
they finally arranged themselves.
“I don’t know. I am merely a plain manufacturer of cutlery.
But this I know, that you can shake the seventeen parts of a
meat-chopper around in a washtub for the next seventeen bil-
lion years and you’ll never make a meat-chopper.”
A. C. Frey
Crying for the Wasp
D R. A. C. Dixon told the story of a lady who was traveling

with her child and a maid. A wasp got into the carriage,
and the child fussed and cried, trying to catch it. At last the
lady said to the servant, “What is the child crying for? Let him
have it.” A few minutes later the lady was startled by an aw-
ful scream from the child, and exclaimed in alarm, “What is
the matter?” “He has got it!” was the servant’s calm reply. So
sometimes, in his great wisdom, God allows us to have what
we want, what we cry for, that we may feel the sting and mis-
ery of it, and learn through pain and humiliation that God’s
will and way are best.
The Hen or the Egg?
A young skeptic once said to an elderly lady, “I once

believed in God, but now, since studying philosophy
and mathematics, I am convinced that God is but an empty
word.” “Well,” said the lady, “it is true that I have not learned
these things, but since you have, can you tell me from whence
this egg comes?” “Why, of course, from a hen,” was the reply.
“And where does the hen come from?” “Why, from an egg.”
Then the lady inquired, “May I ask which existed first, the hen
or the egg?” “The hen, of course,” rejoined the young man.
“Oh, then a hen must have existed without having come from
an egg?” “Oh, no, I should have said the egg was first.” “Then
I suppose you mean that one egg existed without having come
from a hen?” The young man hesitated: “Well, you see — that
is — of course, well, the hen was first!” “Very well,” she said,
“who made the first hen from which all succeeding eggs and
hens have come?” “What do you mean by all this?” he asked.
“Simply this,” the lady answered, “I say that he who created
the first egg or hen is he who created the world. You can’t ex-
plain the existence even of a hen or an egg without God, and
yet you wish me to believe that you can explain the existence
of the whole world without him!”
4
How
blessed
is the man
who finds
Wisdom
P ROV E R B S 3 :13
The Fork
T HERE was a woman who had been diagnosed with a

deadly illness and had been given three months to live.
Her doctor told her to start making preparations to die, so she
contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to dis-
cuss her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted
sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and
what she wanted to be wearing. The woman also told her
pastor that she wanted to be buried with her favorite Bible.
Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave
when the woman suddenly remembered something. “There’s
one more thing,” she said excitedly. “What’s that?” came the
pastor’s reply.
“This is very important,” the woman continued. “I want to
be buried with a fork in my right hand.”
The pastor stood looking at the woman, not knowing quite
what to say.
“That shocks you, doesn’t it?” the woman asked.
“Well, to be honest, I’m puzzled by the request,” said the
pastor.
The woman explained. “In all my years of attending church
socials and functions where food was involved (and let’s be
honest, food is an important part of any church event, spiritual
or otherwise), my favorite part was when whoever was clear-
ing away the dishes of the main course would lean over and
say, ‘You can keep your fork.’ It was my favorite part because
I knew that something better was coming. When they told me
to keep my fork, I knew that something great was about to
be given to me. It wasn’t Jell-O or pudding. It was cake or pie.
Something with substance. So I just want people to see me
there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to
wonder, ‘What’s with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them:
‘Something better is coming, so keep your fork, too.’”
The pastor’s eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged
the woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last
times he would see her before her death. But he also knew
that she had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She knew
that something better was coming.
4 : How blessed is the man who finds wisdom 51
At the funeral, people walking by the woman’s casket saw

the pretty dress she was wearing and her favorite Bible … and
the fork in her right hand. Over and over the pastor heard
the question, “What’s with the fork?” And over and over he
smiled. During his message, the pastor told the people of the
conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died.
He also told them about the fork and what it symbolized to
her. The pastor told the people he could not stop thinking
about the fork, and after that day, neither would they. So the
next time you reach for your fork, let it remind you, oh so
gently, that there is something better coming.
The Wise Woman’s Stone
A wise woman who was traveling in the mountains

found a precious stone in a stream. The next day she
met another traveler who was hungry, and the wise woman
opened her bag to share her food. The hungry traveler saw the
precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him. She did
so without hesitation. The traveler left, rejoicing in his good
fortune. He knew the stone was worth enough to give him
security for a lifetime. But a few days later he came back to
return the stone to the wise woman.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I know how valuable the
stone is, but I give it back in the hope that you can give me
something even more precious. Give me what you have with-
in you that enabled you to give me the stone.”
The Source of Wisdom

A simple man met a very wise man.
“Can you tell me the source of your wisdom?” he asked.
“In two words,” the wise man replied, “good choices.”
“And what is the source of the good choices?”
“In one word, experience.”
“And to what do you attribute your experience?”
“In two words,” the wise man said, “bad choices.”
The True Teacher
H ER name was Mrs. Thompson. As she stood in front of

her fifth grade class on the very first day of school, she
told the children a lie.
Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that
she loved them all the same.
But that was impossible, because there in the front row,
slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.
Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and
noticed that he didn’t play well with the other children, that
his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath.
And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where
Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his
papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting
a big “F” at the top of his papers.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was re-
quired to review each child’s past records, and she put Teddy’s
off until last.
However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a
surprise.
Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is a bright child
with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good
manners. He is a joy to be around.”
His second grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is an excellent
student, well-liked by his classmates, but he is troubled be-
cause his mother has a terminal illness. Life at home must be
a struggle.”
His third grade teacher wrote, “His mother’s death has been
hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn’t
show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if
some steps aren’t taken.”
Teddy’s fourth grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is withdrawn
and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have
many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.”
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was
ashamed of herself.
She felt even worse when her students brought her Christ-
mas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper,
except for Teddy’s.

His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy brown pa-
per of a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in
the middle of the other presents.
Some of the children started to laugh when she found a
rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a
bottle that was one quarter full of perfume.
But she stifled the children’s laughter when she exclaimed
how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on and dabbing some
of the perfume on her wrist.
Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long
enough to say, “Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like
my mom used to.”
After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that
very day, she quit teaching “reading, and writing, and arith-
metic.” Instead, she began to teach children.
Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she
worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more
she encouraged him, the faster he responded.
By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smart-
est children in the class, and despite her lie that she would
love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her
“teacher’s pets.”
A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy,
telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his
whole life.
Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy.
He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his
class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his
whole life.
Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that
while things had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school
and would soon graduate from college with the highest of
honors.
He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and
favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Four more years passed and yet another letter came. This
time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he
decided to go a little further.
The letter explained that she was still the best teacher he
ever had. But now his name was a little longer — the letter
was signed, “Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.”
The story doesn’t end there. You see, there was yet another
letter that spring. Teddy said he’d met this girl and was going
to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple
of years before, and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson
might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually
reserved for the mother of the groom.
Of course, Mrs. Thompson did.
And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with sev-
eral rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing
the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on
their last Christmas together.
They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs.
Thompson’s ear, “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson, for believing
in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and
showing me that I could make a difference.”
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back:
“Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught
me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach
until I met you.”
Summer Trees
S UMMER trees, with all their foliage and fruit, teach us valu-
able lessons. They are so impartial and unselfish. They
never ask one who seeks shade or refreshment whether he is
rich or poor, learned or ignorant, good or bad. As God gives
the sunshine and the rain to all, so the tree blesses all who
approach it.
The Psalmist does well when he likens the righteous unto
trees. Happy indeed are those who know trees intimately as
their friends. One learning the language of trees may hold
sweet and very profitable conversations with them.
A Pane of Glass
One day an angel gave four men a pane of glass.
a The philosopher took his and made a telescope, so he could
see far into the future.
a The Pharisee made a magnifying glass of his, so he could
magnify the faults of those around him.
a The introvert fashioned a microscope, so he could find the
hidden things that lie deep within his heart.
a The wise man made a mirror.
We Have Only Theories
D R. W. R. Whitney, a past President of the American

Chemical Society, picked up from his desk a small bar
magnet. He brought it near a steel needle, and the needle
leaped to the magnet.
“Why?” Dr. Whitney said. “We have worked out elaborate
explanations. We speak learnedly of lines of force. We draw a
diagram of the magnetic field. Yet we know that there are no
lines there and the field is just a word to cover our ignorance.
“Our explanations are only educated guesses. Consider the
beam of light that comes speeding from a star, traveling hun-
dreds of years. Finally it reaches your optic nerve, and you
see the star. How does that happen? We have our corpuscular
theory of light, our wave theory, our quantum theory. But
they are all just educated guesses.”
“So,” explained Dr. Whitney, “after we are all finished with
our theories and guesses, we are still backed up against the
fact of God — the will of God at work in what we call science.”
A Thousand Marbles
P ERHAPS it’s the quiet solitude that comes with being the
first to rise, or maybe it’s the unbounded joy of not hav-
ing to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday
morning are most enjoyable. A few weeks ago, what began as
a typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons
that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you
about it.
I settled in my back room with a steaming cup of coffee in
one hand and the morning paper in the other. I turned the dial
to the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to
listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came
across an older-sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and
a golden voice.
He was telling whomever he was talking with something
about “a thousand marbles.” I was intrigued and stopped to
listen to what he had to say. “Well, Tom, it sure sounds like
you’re busy with your job. I’m sure they pay you well, but
it’s a shame you have to be away from home and your fam-
ily so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to
work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. Too
bad you missed your daughter’s dance recital.” He continued,
“Let me tell you something, Tom — something that has helped
me keep a good perspective on my own priorities.” And
that’s when he began to explain his theory of “a thousand
marbles.”
“You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The
average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some
live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about
seventy-five years. I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up
with 3900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average
person has in their entire lifetime. Now, stick with me, I’m
getting to the important part.
“It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all
this in any detail,” he went on, “and by that time I had lived
through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to think-
ing that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thou-
sand of them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy store and bought
every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three

toy stores to round up 1000 marbles. I took them home and
put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here
next to my gear. Every Saturday since then, I have taken one
marble out and thrown it away.
“I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focus
more on the really important things in life. There is nothing
that helps you get your priorities straight like watching your
time here on this earth run out.
“Now, let me tell you one last thing before I sign off with
you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning,
I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure that
if I make it until next Saturday, then I have been given a little
extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more
time.
“It was nice to meet you, Tom. I hope you spend more time
with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the
band. Seventy-five year Old Man, this is K9NZQ, clear and
going QRT, good morning!”
You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this
fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I
had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I
was going to work with a few hams on the next club newslet-
ter. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss.
“C’mon, Honey, I’m taking you and the kids to breakfast.”
“What brought this on?” she asked with a smile. “Oh, nothing
special, it’s just been a long time since we spent a Saturday
together with the kids. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while
we’re out? I need to buy some marbles .”
This is why my weekends are so important to me! Fame,
material wealth, and social status do not guarantee happi-
ness; in fact, they often hinder it.
The Successful Plea

“
N O ,” said the lawyer, “I shan’t press your claim against
that man. You can get someone else to take the case, or
you can withdraw it — do as you please. There may be some
money in it, but it would come from the sale of the little house
the man occupies and calls home. I want nothing to do with
this case.”
“I suppose the old fellow begged to be let off?”
“Well — yes, he did.”
“And you?”
“I didn’t speak a word to him.”
“Oh, he did all the talking, did he? What did you do?”
“I believe I shed a few tears; he didn’t speak a word to me.”
“Well, may I respectfully inquire whom he did address in
your hearing?”
“Almighty God. But not for my benefit in the least. You
see” — the lawyer crossed his right foot over his left knee,
and began stroking his lower leg, as if to help state his case
concisely — “you see, I found the little house easily enough,
and knocked on the outer door, which stood ajar, but nobody
heard me; so I stepped into the little hall, and saw through the
crack of another door just as cozy a sitting room as there ever
was.
“There on the bed, with her silver head resting high on the
pillows, was an old lady. I was on the point of knocking when
she said, “Come, Father, now begin; I’m all ready.” Beside her,
on his knees, was an old, white-haired man. He began to pray.
First, he reminded God that they were still his submissive chil-
dren, Mother and he, and no matter what he saw fit to bring
upon them, they wouldn’t rebel at his will. Of course, it was
going to be very hard for them to go out homeless in their old
age, with poor Mother so sick and helpless, but they’d been
through hard times before. He reminded God how different
it might have been if only one of their boys had been spared
them; then his voice kind of broke, and a thin white hand
stole from under the coverlet and gently stroked his snowy
hair. He went on to repeat that nothing could be so sharp
again as parting with those three sons — unless Mother and he
should be separated. But at last he began to comfort himself

with the fact that the dear Lord knew it was through no fault
of his own that Mother and he were threatened with the loss
of their little home, which meant beggary and the poorhouse,
a place they prayed to be delivered from entering if it would
be consistent with God’s will. Then he quoted a multitude of
promises concerning the safety of those who put their trust in
the Lord. Yes, I should say he begged hard; in fact, it was the
most thrilling plea I ever heard! At last, he prayed for God’s
blessing on those who were about to demand justice.” The
lawyer stroked his lower limb in silence for a moment or two,
then continued, more slowly than before:
“And I believe I’d rather go to the poorhouse myself, tonight,
than to stain my heart and hands with the blood of such a
prosecution as that.”
“You are afraid to defeat the old man’s prayer?” queried the
client.
“Bless your soul, man, you couldn’t defeat it!” said the law-
yer. “It doesn’t admit of defeat! He left it all subject to the will
of God; but he left no doubt as to his own wishes in the mat-
ter. He claimed that we were told to make known our desires
unto God. You know, I was taught that kind of thing in my
childhood; and why I was sent to hear that prayer, I’m sure I
don’t know; but I hand the case over.”
“I wish,” said the client, twisting uneasily, “you hadn’t told
me about the old fellow’s prayer, because I want the money
the place will bring. But I was taught the Bible all straight
enough when I was a youngster, and I’d hate to oppose such
an appeal as that one. I wish you hadn’t heard a word of it,
and perhaps you shouldn’t listen to petitions not intended for
your own ears.”
“My dear fellow,” he said, “you’re wrong again; it was
intended for my ears, and yours too, and God Almighty in-
tended it. My mother used to sing about God’s moving in a
mysterious way, I remember.”
“Well, my mother used to sing it, too,” said the claimant, as
he twisted his claim papers in his hands. “You can call in the
morning, and tell them the claim has been met.”
“In a mysterious way,” added the lawyer, smiling.
The Empty Egg
J EREMY Forrester was born with a twisted body and a slow

mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seem-
ingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became
exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool, and
make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and
distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of
his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his
teacher.
One day she called his parents and asked them to come in
for a consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty class-
room, Doris said to them, “Jeremy really belongs in a special
school. It isn’t fair to him to be with younger children who
don’t have learning problems. Why, there is a five year gap
between his age and that of the other students.” Mrs. Forrester
cried softly into a tissue while her husband spoke.
“Miss Miller,” he said, “there is no school of that kind nearby.
It would be an awful shock for Jeremy if we had to take him
out of this school. We know he really likes it here.”
Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the
snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into
her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After
all, their only child had a terrible illness. But it wasn’t fair to
keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach,
and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never
learn to read and write. Why waste any more time trying?
As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. She
prayed, “Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy.”
From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy’s noises and
his blank stares.
Then one day, he limped to her desk. “I love you, Miss
Miller,” he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear.
The other students snickered, and Doris’s face turned red.
She stammered, “Wh – – why, that’s very nice, Jeremy.
N – – now please take your seat.”
Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the
coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then
to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave
each of the children a large plastic egg.
“Now,” she said to them, “I want you to take this home and
bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows
new life. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Miss Miller,” the children responded enthusiastical-
ly — all except for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never
left her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he
understood what she had said about Jesus’ death and resurrec-
tion? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should
call his parents and explain the project to them.
That evening, Doris’s kitchen sink stopped up. She called the
landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog
it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse,
and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely
forgot about phoning Jeremy’s parents.
The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and
talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on
Miss Miller’s desk. After they completed their math lesson, it
was time to open the eggs.
In the first egg, Doris found a flower.
“Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life,” she said.
“When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring
is here.”
A small girl in the first row waved her arm. “That’s my egg,
Miss Miller,” she called out.
The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked
very real. Doris held it up.
“We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a
beautiful butterfly. Yes, that’s new life, too.”
Little Judy smiled proudly and said, “Miss Miller, that one
is mine.”
Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained
that moss, too, showed life.
Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom: “My daddy
helped me,” he beamed.
Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was
empty.
Surely it must be Jeremy’s, she thought, and of course, he did
not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten
to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass
him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another.
Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up. “Miss Miller, aren’t you going

to talk about my egg?”
Flustered, Doris replied, “But Jeremy, your egg is empty.”
He looked into her eyes and said softly, “Yes, but Jesus’
tomb was empty, too.”
Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked
him, “Do you know why the tomb was empty?”
“Oh, yes,” Jeremy said. “Jesus was killed and put in there.
Then his Father raised him up.”
The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out
into the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted
completely away.
Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their re-
spects at the funeral were surprised to see nineteen eggs on
top of his casket, all of them empty.
The Wisdom of Age
W HEN the professor had spoken we stood for a moment

silent, then he smiled and said briskly:
“I have been a botanist for fifty-four years. When I was a boy,
I believed implicitly in God. I prayed to him, having a vision
of him — a person — before my eyes. As I grew older, I con-
cluded there was no God. I dismissed him from the universe. I
believed only in what I could see, hear, or feel. I talked about
Nature and Reality.”
He paused, the smile still lighting his face, evidently recall-
ing the old days. I did not interrupt him. Finally he turned
to me and said abruptly: “And now, it seems to me, there is
nothing but God.”
The Wise Old Owl

A wise old owl sat in an oak,
The more he heard, the less he spoke;
The less he spoke, the more he heard.
Why can’t we be like that old bird?
Mud Puddles
W HEN I look at a patch of dandelions, I see a bunch of

weeds that are going to take over my yard. My kids
see flowers for Mom and blowing white fluff you can wish
on.
When I look at an old drunk and he smiles at me, I see a
smelly, dirty person who probably wants money, and I look
away. My kids see someone smiling at them, and they smile
back.
When I hear music I love, I know I can’t carry a tune and
don’t have much rhythm, so I sit self-consciously and listen.
My kids feel the beat and move to it. They sing out the words.
If they don’t know them, they make up their own.
When I feel wind on my face, I brace myself against it. I feel
it messing up my hair and pulling me back when I walk. My
kids close their eyes, spread their arms and fly with it, until
they fall to the ground laughing.
When I pray, I say “Thee” and “Thou” and grant me this,
give me that. My kids say, “Hi, God! Thanks for my toys and
my friends. Please keep the bad dreams away tonight. Sorry,
I don’t want to go to heaven yet. I would miss my mommy
and daddy.”
When I see a mud puddle I step around it. I see muddy shoes
and dirty carpets. My kids sit in it. They see dams to build, riv-
ers to cross, and worms to play with.
I wonder if we are given kids to teach or to learn from? No
wonder God loves the little children! Enjoy the little things in
life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the
big things.
Exceptional Lessons in History

Story Number One:
M ANY years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago.

Capone wasn’t famous for anything heroic. He was
notorious for enmeshing the Windy City in everything from
bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.
Capone had a lawyer nicknamed “Easy Eddie.” He was his
lawyer for a good reason: Eddie was very good! In fact, Ed-
die’s skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long
time. To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well.
Not only was the money big, but Eddie got special dividends.
For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion
with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day. The
estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago city block.
Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little
consideration to the atrocities that went on around him.
Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he
loved dearly. Eddie saw to it that his young son had the best
of everything: clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing
was withheld. Price was no object. And, despite his involve-
ment with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach his son
right from wrong. Eddie wanted his son to be a better man
than he was himself. Yet, with all his wealth and influence,
there were two things he couldn’t give his son: a good name
and a good example.
One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie
wanted to rectify wrongs he had done. He decided he would
go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al “Scarface”
Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some
semblance of integrity. To do this, he would have to testify
against the mob, and he knew that the cost would be great.
Nevertheless, he testified.
Within the year, Easy Eddie’s life ended in a blaze of gun-
fire on a lonely Chicago street. But he had given his son the
greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he would
ever pay.
Story Number Two:
W ORLD War II produced many heroes. One such man

was Lieutenant Commander Butch O’Hare. He was a
fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier USS Lexington in
the South Pacific. One day, his entire squadron was sent on
a mission. After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge
and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel
tank. He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission
and get back to his ship. His flight leader told him to return
to the carrier. Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and
headed back to the fleet.
As he was returning to the mother ship, he saw something
that turned his blood cold. A squadron of Japanese aircraft
were speeding their way toward the American fleet. The
American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all
but defenseless.
He couldn’t reach his squadron and bring them back in
time to save the fleet. Nor could he warn the fleet of the ap-
proaching danger. There was only one thing to do. He must
somehow divert the enemy from the fleet. Laying aside all
thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of
Japanese planes.
The wing-mounted 50-caliber machine guns blazed as he
charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then
another. Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation
and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammu-
nition was spent. Undaunted, he continued the assault. He
dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of
damaging as many enemy planes as possible and rendering
them unfit to fly. Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron
took off in another direction.
Deeply relieved, Butch O’Hare and his tattered fighter
limped back to the carrier. Upon his arrival, he reported in
and related the events surrounding his return. The film from
the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed
the extent of Butch’s daring efforts to protect his fleet. He
had, in fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft. This took place

on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch became the
Navy’s first ace of WW II, and the first naval aviator to earn
the Congressional Medal of Honor. A year later, Butch was
killed in aerial combat at the age of 29. His hometown would
not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today,
O’Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage
of this great man.
So the next time you find yourself at O’Hare International,
consider visiting Butch’s memorial displaying his statue and
his Medal of Honor. It’s located between Terminals 1 and 2.
What do these two stories have to do with each other?
Butch O’Hare was Easy Eddie’s son.
Look Up
T HERE is a story of a wicked father who took his young

son with him when he went to steal potatoes from his
neighbor’s field. When they came to the boundary fence, the
father stopped and listened while his eyes searched from right
to left. Silently, he began to climb the fence. Then the child
spoke. “Dad,” he said, “you forgot something — you didn’t
look up.” Sudden guilt shamed the father; he took the lad by
the hand and returned home.
God “is not far from every one of us; for in him we live
and move and have our being.” He is not merely a specta-
tor beholding the evil and the good, but he is the actual ruler,
upholding all things by his power, watching over the actions
of every person, yet preserving our freedom to make our own
decisions.
Since he is watching over all our actions, we should indeed
use our time and means in the faithful performance of those
tasks God has assigned for us to do. In this we do not depend
wholly upon our own strength, but our efforts are aided and
guided by the providential care of a loving God.
The Half Cannot Be Told
A boy who was born blind had an operation which en-

abled him to see. His mother led him out into the fields
and uncovered his eyes for the first time, and let him look
upon the sky and trees and grass and flowers. “Oh, Mother!”
he cried, “why didn’t you tell me it was so beautiful?” “I tried to
tell you, dear,” was her answer, “but you could not understand
me.”
So it is sometimes with great verses in the Bible. When we
first read them, or commit them to memory, we do not under-
stand; but afterward, when they fit the heart and our eyes are
opened, we wonder at their beauty.
The Dynamics of Faith
A girl was distressed by the discovery that her brother

had set traps to catch birds. Asked what she had done
about the matter, she replied, “I prayed that the traps might
not catch the birds.” “Anything else?” “Yes,” she said, “I
prayed that God would prevent the birds from getting into
the traps.” “Anything further?” “Yes, I went out and kicked
the traps all to pieces.”
That child seems to have mastered the doctrine of the
futility of faith without works. Real faith is not static, it is
dynamic. It is not too much concerned with security. It even
risks danger. It is bold to challenge the unknown.
Old Scottish Verse

HIS thoughts were slow,
His words were few and never formed to glisten.
But he was a joy for all the clan,
For you should have heard him listen.
The
5
LORD
will be your
Confidence
P ROV E R B S 3 : 2 6
The New Footprints
I MAGINE you and the Lord Jesus are walking down the road
together. For much of the way, the Lord’s footprints go
along steadily, consistently, rarely varying the pace. But your
footprints are a disorganized stream of zigzags, starts, stops,
turnarounds, circles, departures, and returns.
For much of the way, it seems to go like this, but gradually
your footprints come more in line with the Lord’s. They soon
parallel his consistently. You and Jesus are walking as true
friends! This seems perfect, but then an interesting thing hap-
pens: your footprints, that once etched the sand next to Jesus,
are now walking precisely in his steps. Inside his larger foot-
prints are your smaller ones. You and Jesus are becoming one.
This goes on for many miles, but gradually you notice an-
other change. The footprints inside the large footprints seem
to grow larger. Eventually they disappear altogether. There is
only one set of footprints: they have become one. This goes
on for a long time, but suddenly the second set of footprints
is back. This time it seems even worse! Zigzags all over the
place. Stops. Starts. Gashes in the sand. A variable mess of
prints. You are amazed and shocked. Your dream ends.
Now you pray: “Lord, I understand the first scene with
zigzags and fits. I was a new Christian; I was just learning.
But you walked on through the storm and helped me learn to
walk with you.”
“That is correct,” the LORD responds.
“And when the smaller footprints were inside of yours, I
was actually learning to walk in your steps; I followed you
very closely.”
“Very good. You have understood everything so far.”
“When the smaller footprints grew and filled in yours, I
suppose that I was becoming like you in every way.”
“Precisely.”
“So, Lord, was there a regression or something? The foot-
prints separated, and this time it was worse than at first.”
There is a pause as the Lord answers with a smile in his
voice. “You didn’t know? That was when we danced.”
5 : The LORD will be your confidenc e 71
A Camel Left Over
A N Arab who was dying called in his most trusted

friend, whom he wanted to become executor of his last
will and testament. He told his friend that he had 17 camels,
of which he desired that his oldest son should receive one half
(1/2); his second son, one third (1/3); and his third son, one ninth
(1/9). On the Arab’s death, his friend was confronted with the
difficulty of dividing 17 camels into 1/2, 1/3, and 1/9, in exact
proportions! The executor, being a very honest and unselfish
man, himself owned but a single camel; he would carry out
his friend’s wish even if it meant adding his own camel into
the lot. On doing so, he was able to give the oldest son 1/2 of
18 = 9 camels; and to the second son, 1/3 of 18 = 6 camels; and
to the youngest son, 1/9 of 18 = 2 camels. On adding these
together he found he had disposed of 9 + 6 + 2 = 17 camels, so
that the one left over was his own!
How often does the Lord ask us to do certain things which
seem to tax our strength completely; but we find, on putting
into it all we have, the “Isaac” that we offered up is, in the
end, returned to us!
A .C. Frey
A Lesson in Heart
A lesson in “heart” is my little 10-year-old daughter, Sarah,

who was born with a muscle missing in her foot and
wears a brace all the time. She came home one beautiful spring
day to tell me she had competed in “field day” — that’s where
they have lots of races and other competitive events. Because
of her leg support, my mind raced as I tried to think of en-
couragement for my Sarah, things I could say to her about not
letting this get her down, but before I could get a word out,
she said, “Daddy, I won two of the races!” I couldn’t believe
it! And then Sarah said, “I had an advantage.” Ah, I knew it.
I thought she must have been given a head start — some kind
of physical advantage. But again, before I could say anything,
she said, “Daddy, I didn’t get a head start. My advantage was
I had to try harder!”
Faith’s Two Options

When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and
are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith
is knowing that one of two things will happen:
h There will be something solid to stand on, or
h You will be taught to fly.
The Engine Room was Quiet
F INNEY , the great evangelist, tells us that he was once

crossing the Atlantic when the steamer was overtaken
by a fierce gale of wind. Upon the deck the roar and confu-
sion were terrific. The spray from the crests of the waves blew
upon the face with almost force enough to blister it. The noise
of the waves roaring and foaming was almost deafening. But
when he stepped into the engine-room, everything was quiet.
The mighty engine was moving with quietness and stillness
in striking contrast to the roar without. So God gives courage,
strength, and quietness to the storm-tossed soul who follows
Jesus’ example and comes to him in prayer.
In the Well with God
A young boy, walking through the field one day, preoc-

cupied in thought, fell into a well. He was not hurt;
however, his mother, on finding him, but unable to extricate
him from the well at the moment, stood at the mouth of the
well speaking comforting words to him. Sensing his mother’s
anxiety, he said to her, “Mother, do not worry, I was talking to
God when he and I fell into this well together.”
How comforting, when in the furnace of affliction, to
know that he is there with us, too!
A. C. Frey
Chosen to Clap and Cheer
W HENEVER I’m disappointed with my role in life, I stop

and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying out
for a part in a school play. His mother told me that he’d set
his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be
chosen.
On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to
collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining
with pride and excitement.
“Guess what, Mom,” he shouted, and then said those words
that will remain a lesson to me:
“I’ve been chosen to clap and cheer!”
Looking Backward
A yacht was cruising among the isles of Scotland, when

a gale caught the frail craft off a perilous lee shore.
The skipper made for a harbor leagues away. Through the
darkness the yacht went plunging on her course. At length
she swung into smooth water and they dropped anchor, and
turning into their berths the crew went peacefully to sleep.
In the morning, the owner came on deck and surveyed the
scene — a little haven girt about by dark purple mountains.
Looking toward the entrance, he saw a narrow channel, with
sharp rocks jutting here and there, all awash with boiling surf.
Turning to the old skipper, he exclaimed, “Did we pass there
in the darkness?”
This is a parable of life. We know something of the good-
ness and mercy which have followed us all our days, but we
shall never fully realize the debt we owe our unseen Guide
until we are safely within the harbor.
Reaching Thinner Air
F RANK W. Boreham passes on a story told by Handley

Page, the airman. When Page landed at Kobar, in Arabia,
a large rat managed to get into his airplane. When Page was
in mid-air, he discovered the rat’s presence by the sound of
gnawing behind him. Alarmed at the thought of the damage
which those pitiless teeth might do, the aviator remembered
that a rat is unable to survive at high altitude. He determined
to soar, and he rose until he found breathing difficult. At length
he descended to a lower level, and upon landing he discovered
that the rat was dead.
There is help for the tempted here. When we feel ourselves
endangered by the pests that molest our souls, we need only
to rise to a loftier level of Christian attainment.
The Source of the Shadow
A S when a father stoops down to kiss a child, the

shadow of his body falls upon it, so many of the dark
misfortunes of our life are not God going away from us, but
our Heavenly Father stooping down to give us the kiss of his
infinite and everlasting love.
Saved by the Rain
A Frenchman, after attending a fair in Paris, was headed

home on horseback. Behind his saddle was strapped a
large satchel filled with presents for his wife and children. He
was recalling the pleasant days at the fair, and picturing the
joy of meeting his family, when the sky unexpectedly became
overcast and it began to rain. He was annoyed and wondered
why his trip had to be spoiled by such weather. He rode along
pitying himself as men and women and even boys and girls
sometimes do.
Just then, from behind some bushes, a robber sprang out
and pointed his gun at the rider. The trigger clicked, but the
gun did not fire. The grumbling rider put spurs to his horse
and was soon past danger. Collecting his thoughts, he said to

himself, “What a fool I’ve been, complaining to the Lord that
the rain was spoiling my trip home. If the rain had not come
and dampened the powder in the robber’s gun, I would have
been killed and never reached home and family.”
Paganini’s Last String
A little over a century ago, Niccolo Paganini’s violin was

enchanting many an audience in Europe. Paganini was
a recognized virtuoso, and his Guarnerius thrilled music lov-
ers with the grandeur of its clarion notes. But the musician
was a gaunt, emaciated figure with waxen face and long black
hair, and his clumsy movements frequently provoked unre-
strained mirth.
During one of his scheduled concerts it seemed that all the
evil fates were conspiring against him. He came limping on
the platform because of a nail he had run into his heel. As he
was tuning his violin both candles fell out of the music box,
and the audience tittered. After he had played only a few
bars one of the strings broke, and the throng laughed. When
a second string broke, the laughter became more audible. But
when a third string snapped and Paganini continued to draw
divine music out of the single remaining string, the audi-
ence fell into a deep silence and looked on in consternation.
They completely forgot his clumsiness and the mishaps that
might have wrecked a less gifted musician. They realized
that genius was revealing itself before them. It was he who
had introduced the double harmony and the left-handed piz-
zicato (played by plucking the strings with the finger instead
of using the bow), and to hear him induce delicate harmo-
nies out of a violin with broken strings was a revealing and
memorable experience.
What was the secret of Paganini’s determination to fin-
ish his solo? How did his song continue despite the broken
strings? The answer is quite apparent: he made full use of the
one string that remained unbroken.
The Chosen Vessel

T he Master was searching for a vessel to use;
On the shelf there were many —
Which one would he choose?
Take me, cried the gold one, I’m shiny and bright,
I’m of great value and I do things just right.
My beauty and luster will outshine the rest
And for someone like you, Master, gold would be best!
The Master passed on with no word at all;

He looked at a silver urn, narrow and tall;
I’ll serve you, dear Master, I’ll pour out your wine
And I’ll be at your table whenever you dine,
My lines are so graceful, my carvings so true,
And my silver will always compliment you.
Unheeding, the Master passed on to the brass.

It was wide-mouthed and shallow, and polished like glass.
Here! Here! cried the vessel, I know I will do,
Place me on your table for all men to view.
Look at me, called the goblet of crystal so clear,

My transparency shows my contents so dear,
Though fragile am I, I will serve you with pride,
And I’m sure I’ll be happy in your house to abide.
The Master came next to a vessel of wood,

Polished and carved, it solidly stood.
You may use me, dear Master, the wooden bowl said,
But I’d rather you used me for fruit, not for bread!
Then the Master looked down and saw a vessel of clay.

Empty and broken it helplessly lay.
No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose,
To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use.
Ah! This is the vessel I’ve been hoping to find,

I will mend it and use it and make it all mine.
I need not the vessel with pride of itself;
Nor the one who is narrow to sit on the shelf;
Nor the one who is big-mouthed and shallow and loud;
Nor one who displays his contents so proud;
Not the one who thinks he can do all things just right;
But this plain earthy vessel filled with my power and
might.
Then gently he lifted the vessel of clay.
Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day.
Spoke to it kindly …
There’s work you must do,
Just pour out to others as I pour into you.
Two Lights to Show the Way
J OHN Henry Jowett told us that during his student days he

was appointed to preach at Saddleworth. He was enter-
tained by a farmer. Following the afternoon service, he stayed
at the farmer’s house until time for the evening train. As dark-
ness fell, the quiet of the day turned into a stormy night. Soon
the rutty roads were living streams. When the time for the
train’s arrival neared, his host gave him a farm lantern, say-
ing, “Just to help you to see where you are going, and to keep
you out of the ditch.” That of course meant something, but he
added something better.
“Do you see that glimmer of light yonder?” Jowett was
asked. “No, where?” was his answer. And then the farmer
trained his eyes on the far-off gleam that appeared a mile
away. “That is Saddleworth station. Make for that,” were his
instructions. The two lights gave the young preacher what
was needed. The lantern gave him light for his feet, and each
step was clear. The glimmer in the distance gave him cheer
and pointed the course of his journey. He had the light for the
next step and guidance for the main direction. The Psalmist
gives us a similar picture: “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet,
and a light unto my path.”
6
Do not
Withhold
Good
from those
to whom it is
due
P ROV E R B S 3 : 2 7
When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking

A message every adult should read, because children
are watching you and doing as you do, not as you say.
W HEN you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you hang my

first painting on the refrigerator, and I immediately
wanted to paint another one.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you feed a stray
cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you make my
favorite cake for me, and I learned that the little things can
be the special things in life.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I heard you say a
prayer, and I knew there is a God I could always talk to and
I learned to trust in God.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you make a meal
and take it to a friend who was sick, and I learned that we all
have to help take care of each other.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you give of
your time and money to help people who had nothing, and I
learned that those who have something should give to those
who don’t.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you take care of
our house and everyone in it, and I learned we have to take
care of what we are given.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw how you handled
your responsibilities even when you didn’t feel good, and I
learned that I would have to be responsible when I grew up.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw tears come from
your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it’s
all right to cry.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw that you cared,
and I wanted to be everything that I could be.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I learned most of life’s
lessons that I needed to know to become a good and produc-
tive person when I grew up.
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I looked at you and
wanted to say, “Thanks for all the things I saw when you
thought I wasn’t looking.”
6 : Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due 81
A Good Deed Rewarded
T HE well-dressed couple looked weary and bedraggled as

they entered the front door of that rather middle-class
hotel in San Francisco. “Do you have a room available?” they
asked the desk clerk. “I am sorry, but we are sold out,” was his
apologetic response.
“Do you know of any lodgings that might be available?”
they persisted. “We have been looking for hours and all the
hotels seem to be full.” “That is because there are several con-
ferences in town this week,” the clerk responded, “and I don’t
know of any rooms available.”
Discouraged, they turned to leave. But before they could
reach the door, the clerk called them back. Hesitantly, he
spoke: “If you don’t mind, I have a possible answer for you. I
have a small room here where I sleep. It isn’t much, but you
could use it tonight for no charge, and I could sleep on the
floor behind the counter when my shift is over.”
Gratefully, the couple accepted the clerk’s offer. In the
morning, when they were leaving, the clerk had just risen
from his nap on the floor. Seeing him, the couple came over
to express their gratitude. “Let me tell you,” the gentleman
said, “if we ever open a hotel, you can be sure we will call
you to be the manager for us.”
A few years later the clerk received a letter from the couple,
asking him to manage the new hotel they had just opened
in New York City. The hotel which Mr. and Mrs. John Jakob
Astor opened was the world-famous Waldorf-Astoria.
Just for You

If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it.
If he had a wallet, your photo would be in it.
He sends you flowers every spring.
He sends you a sunrise every morning.
Whenever you want to talk, he listens.
He could live anywhere in the universe,
But he chose your heart!
True Love
O N the last day before Christmas, I hurried to the super-

market to buy the rest of the gifts I hadn’t managed to
buy earlier.
When I saw all the people there, I started to complain to
myself: “It is going to take forever here and I still have so
many other places to go. Christmas really is getting more
and more annoying every year. How I wish I could just lie
down, go to sleep, and only wake up after it was over.”
Nonetheless, I made my way to the toy section, and there I
started to decry the prices, wondering if kids really play with
such expensive toys.
I noticed a small boy about five years old, pressing a doll
against his chest. He kept on touching the hair of the doll,
and he looked so sad. I wondered whom this doll was for.
Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him
and asked, “Granny, are you sure I don’t have enough mon-
ey?” The old lady replied, “You know that you don’t have
enough money to buy this doll, my dear.”
Then she asked him to stay there for five minutes while she
went to look around. She left quickly. The little boy was still
holding the doll in his hands.
Finally, I walked over to him and asked him to whom he
wanted to give this doll.
“This is the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so
much for this Christmas. She was so sure that Santa Claus
would bring it to her.”
I replied that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after
all, and not to worry. But he said sadly, “No, Santa Claus can
not bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to
my mother so that she can give it to her when she goes there.”
His eyes were so sad while saying this. “My sister has gone
to be with God. Daddy says that Mummy will also go to see
God very soon, so I thought that she could take the doll with
her to give it to my sister.”
My heart nearly stopped.
The little boy looked up at me and said, “I told Daddy to
tell Mummy not to go yet. I asked him to wait until I come

back from the supermarket.” Then he showed me a very nice
photo of himself where he was laughing.
He told me, “I also want Mummy to take this photo with
her so that she will not forget me. I love my mummy and I
wish she didn’t have to leave me, but Daddy says that she has
to go to be with my little sister.”
Then he looked again at the doll with his sad eyes.
I quickly reached for my wallet and took out a few dollars
and said to the boy, “What if we checked again, just in case,
to see if you have enough money?”
“Okay,” he said. “I hope that I have enough.” I added some
of my money to his without him seeing, and we started to
count it. There was enough for the doll, and even some to
spare. The little boy said, “Thank you, God, for giving me
enough money.”
Then he looked at me and added, “I asked yesterday before
I slept for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this
doll, so that Mummy can give it to my sister. He heard me. I
also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for
my mummy, but I didn’t dare to ask God for too much. But he
gave me enough to buy the doll and the white rose. Mummy
loves white roses.”
A few minutes later, the old lady returned, and I left with
my cart. I finished my shopping in a totally different state of
mind from when I started. I couldn’t get the little boy out of
my mind. Then I remembered a local newspaper article two
days before, about an accident involving a drunk driver in a
truck and a young mother and child in a car. The little girl
died at the scene, and the mother was left in a critical state.
The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-
support system, because the young lady would not be able to
recover from the coma.
Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in
the newspaper that the young lady had passed away.
I impulsively bought a bunch of white roses and went to
the funeral home where the body of the young woman was
on display for visitors to pay their final respects.
She lay there in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in

her hand, with the doll and the photo of the little boy placed
over her chest.
I left the place crying, feeling that my life had been changed
forever.
The love that this little boy had for his mother and his sister
is still, to this day, hard to imagine.
And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken it all
away from him.
My Father will Pay for it
T HE other day a little girl told me she was going to give her
father a pair of slippers on his birthday. “Where will you
get the money?” I asked. She opened her eyes wide and said,
“Why, Father will give me the money.” And I smiled silently as
I thought the dear man would buy his own birthday present.
I was not there when she gave him the slippers. But I sup-
pose when the father came down in the morning, there was
the package between his knife and fork. And the father loved
his little girl for her gift, even though he had had to pay for it.
She had nothing in the world that he had not given her.
“But it’s Warm Now”
A lady, on getting into her carriage, remarked to the

groom, “Jackson, it’s a very cold day. Will you remind
me when I get home to send some warm blankets to the poor
people?” She arrived at her luxurious and warm rooms, took
off her furs, and made herself comfortable over a cup of tea.
Later, when Jackson reminded her of the promised blankets,
she replied, “Ah, yes, I remember, but it’s nice and warm
now.” In warmth and comfort she had no feeling for the
poor.
A Two-Fold Blessing
T HE Scottish farmer heard a cry for help from a nearby

field. Going to investigate, he discovered a young man
caught in a muddy bog. Quickly forming a bridge of logs, he
rescued the lad from the mire and brought him back to his
small cottage to clean up and change his clothes. The farmer
notified the young man’s father to come and fetch him.
It was not long before the father, a wealthy local landowner,
arrived. Expressing his gratitude to the farmer, he offered
him a reward for saving his son’s life. The farmer refused the
offer, saying that it was no more than a neighborly thing to
do.
When the father noticed that the farmer had a son about
the same age as his own boy, he inquired as to where the
farmer planned to send his son to college. “We cannot afford
a university,” the farmer replied, “so he will learn to farm my
land after me.”
“I insist,” the wealthy man said firmly, “that your son shall
go to a university and I will bear the cost.”
Thus, a few years later the youth entered a university,
where he studied medicine. He not only graduated with
honors, but went into research and eventually discovered
penicillin. His name was Alexander Fleming.
After many years had passed, the wealthy landowner’s
son, now in a position of great prominence, became deathly
ill. Fortunately, the infection was cured with the use of the
penicillin his young friend had discovered.
The name of the wealthy benefactor was Randolph
Churchill, and the young lad whose life had been twice saved
was none other than Winston Churchill.
What Goes Around Comes Around
H E almost didn’t see the old lady stranded on the side of

the road. But even in the fading light of day, he could
see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes
and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering as he approached
her.
Even though he was smiling, she was worried. No one had
stopped to help for the last hour or so — was he going to hurt
her? He didn’t look safe, he looked poor and hungry.
He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in
the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only
fear can put in you.
He said, “I’m here to help you, ma’am. Why don’t you wait
in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Bryan.”
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was
bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place
to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two.
Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty
and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she
rolled down the window and began talking to him. She told
him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing
through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her
aid.
Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him
how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all
right with her. She had already imagined all the awful things
that could have happened had he not stopped.
Bryan never thought twice about the money. This was not
a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God
knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the
past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never
occurred to him to act any other way.
He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the
next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give
that person the assistance they needed. Bryan added, “And
think of me.”
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had
been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed
for home, disappearing into the twilight.
A few miles down the road, the lady saw a small café. She
went in to grab a bite to eat and take the chill off before she
made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy restaurant.
Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was
unfamiliar to her. The place clearly got little business. The
waitress came over to wipe the table and set out clean silver-
ware. She had a sweet smile — even being on her feet all day
couldn’t erase its warmth.
The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months
pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her
attitude. It was obvious that she had to work to support her
family. The old lady wondered how someone who had so
little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered
Bryan.
After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to
get change for her hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right
out the door.
She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The
waitress wondered where the lady could be; then she noticed
something written on the napkin, under which were five
more $100 bills.
There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady
had written: “You don’t owe me anything, I have been there,
too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I’m helping you.
If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do
not let this chain of love end with you.”
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and
people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day.
That night when she got home from work and climbed into
bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady
had written. How could the lady have known how much she
and her husband needed the help right now?
With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She
knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping
next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered, “Every-
thing’s gonna be all right. I love you, Bryan.”
The Master’s Touch

O NE day a stranger wandered through the streets of Strat-
ford, England. As he neared the Stratford Cathedral he
heard beautiful music coming from the building. He entered
the church and took a seat toward the rear of the sanctuary.
He was strangely attracted and enchanted by the strains of
music coming from the wonderful organ.
After some time, he walked up the long aisle, climbed the
steep staircase leading into the choir loft, and edged his way
through the seats to take up a position near the organ. He
stood there for a moment or two. Then the old organist who
was seated at the console looked at him and asked, “What do
you want?”
“Please, sir,” replied the stranger, “I should like to play your
organ. I was attracted by the delightful tone of your organ
and would appreciate the privilege of playing upon it.”
“No,” snapped the old organist. “This is my instrument, and
no one else ever plays it.”
But the stranger entreated. Finally the old organist slipped
out from the seat before the console and the stranger took his
place. As the organist sat nearby, he heard strange combina-
tions and tones coming from his organ. He was thrilled. After
a few moments, he realized that the music being played was
a composition on which he had labored long in his attempt
to master it. Tears began to run down his cheeks. Finally the
stranger stopped playing and looked around at the old organ-
ist, who said, “You must have rehearsed that piece for months
to have mastered it as you have. I have been working on it for
weeks and I do not feel that I have even begun to learn it.”
“Yes,” said the stranger seated at the organ. “You see, I love
it. It is one of my own.”
The eyes of the old organist searched the stranger’s face.
“Are you Mendelssohn?” he asked in amazement.
“Yes, that is my name,” replied the stranger.
“And to think that I almost denied the master the privilege
of playing upon my organ,” said the old organist.
The Master Musician is able to produce heavenly music
that will enchant and delight — but only as the console of
your life is surrendered to the Lord Jesus can he thrill and
mysteriously draw others to himself.
Cold Water for a Fevered Child
I saw a mother force her fever-stricken child into a bath of

cold water. She cried with pain, but the mother was relent-
less. The child’s teeth chattered, her frame shook with agony.
Oh, cruel mother, have you no love for your child? Have you
no pity? Have you no chord of tenderness that vibrates at her
helpless cry? I looked a second time, and lo, the fever had fled,
and the child was resting quietly.
A Tale of Bread and Butter
A baker living in a village not far from Quebec bought

his butter from a neighboring farmer. One day he be-
came suspicious that the butter was not of the same weight
as before, and decided to investigate it. For several days he
weighed the butter, and found that the rolls of butter which
the farmer brought were gradually diminishing in weight.
This angered him and he had the farmer arrested. “I presume
you have weights,” said the judge. “No, sir,” replied the farmer.
“How then do you manage to weigh the butter that you sell?”
“That’s easily explained, Your Honor,” said the farmer. “When
the baker commenced buying his butter from me, I thought
I’d get my bread from him, and it’s the one pound loaf I’ve
been using as a weight for the butter I sell. If the weight of the
butter is wrong, he has himself to blame.”
Hang On to One Another
T HERE is a beautiful story of an overworked nurse who

escorted a tired young man to her patient’s bedside.
Leaning over and speaking loudly to the elderly patient, she
said, “Your son is here.”
With great effort, the old man’s unfocused eyes opened,
then flickered shut again. The young man squeezed the aged
hand in his and sat beside the bed.
Throughout the night he sat there, holding the old man’s
hand and whispering words of comfort.
By morning light, the patient had died. In moments, hos-
pital staff swarmed into the room to turn off machines and
remove needles.
The nurse stepped over to the young man’s side and began
to offer sympathy, but he interrupted her.
“Who was that man?” he asked.
The startled nurse replied, “I thought he was your father!”
“No, he was not my father,” he answered. “I never saw him
before in my life.” “Then why didn’t you say something
when I took you to him?”
“I realized he needed his son and his son wasn’t here,” the
man explained. “And since he was too sick to recognize that
I was not his son, I knew he needed me.”
Do we need to be reminded that nobody should have to die
alone? Likewise, nobody should have to grieve alone or cry
alone. Or laugh alone or celebrate alone.
We are made to travel life’s journey hand in hand. There is
someone ready to grasp your hand today, and someone hop-
ing you will take his or her hand.
Remember to hang on to one another!
Lord help me live from day to day
In such a self-forgetful way
That even when I kneel to pray
My prayer shall be for others.
Most Important Question
D URING my second month of nursing school, our profes-

sor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and
had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one:
“What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?”
Surely this was some kind of a joke. I had seen the cleaning
woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her fif-
ties, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper,
leaving the last question blank. Before class ended, one student
asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
“Absolutely,” said the professor. “In your careers you will meet
many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention
and care, even if all you do is smile and say ‘Hello.’”
I’ve never forgotten that lesson. I also learned — her name
was Dorothy.
The Instrument Belongs to the Master
T HE story is told of a wealthy Englishman who had added

to his valuable collection a rare violin which was coveted
by Fritz Kreisler, the celebrated virtuoso. When the owner
refused to part with the instrument, Kreisler begged permis-
sion to play it just once. The opportunity was granted and he
played as only a genius can play. He forgot himself. He poured
his soul into his music.
The Englishman stood as one enchanted until the playing
ceased. He did not speak until Kreisler had tenderly returned
the instrument to the antique case, with the gentleness of a
mother putting her baby to bed. “Take the violin,” the Eng-
lishman burst out, “it is yours. I have no right to keep it. It
ought to belong to the man who can play it as you did.”
That was odd reasoning, to be sure; and yet it has some-
thing compelling about it. In a sense, ought not an instru-
ment belong to the master who can draw the finest music
from it? And ought not our lives belong to the Master who
can draw the noblest harmonies from them?
Always Remember Those Who Serve
I Nthe days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a ten-
year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table.
A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. “How much
is an ice cream sundae?” the boy asked. “Fifty cents,” replied
the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket
and studied a number of coins in it. “How much is a dish of
plain ice cream?” he inquired. Some people were now waiting
for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient. “Thirty-five
cents,” she said brusquely. The little boy again counted the
coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said. The waitress
brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked
away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and
departed. When the waitress came back, she began wiping
down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw.
There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels
and five pennies — her tip.
Even the Leaves are Fragrant
A group of girls were playing together one rainy after-

noon. One of them opened the door for a moment,
and the scent of wet, green, growing things poured into the
room. The girl at the door turned and said to the others, “Do
you smell the sweet-briar down by the gate? It is always fra-
grant, but never so fragrant as in the rain.” One of the girls said
impulsively that this reminded her of her aunt. When asked
to explain, she said, “Why, you see, there are ever so many
roses that are fragrant — the roses themselves, I mean — but
the sweet-briar is the only one whose leaves also are fragrant.
That is why it makes me think of my aunt, because everything
about her, everything she does, not only the large things, but
all the common everyday things, the leaves as well as the blos-
soms, have something beautiful in them.”
Catalysts
A CCORDING to the dictionary, a catalyst is “a substance

that initiates or accelerates chemical reaction between
two or more substances without itself combining with either
of them or undergoing any permanent change.” (Winston)
Some of God’s dear people are catalysts, for by their mere
presence they bring out the best in others. And by being
unaffected by an issue which has caused conflict between
people, they are often able to bring about a peaceable recon-
ciliation. Truly, God has ordained that physical phenomena
should reflect spiritual law!
A. C. Frey
So Faithful to Duty
I have been reading of an old man, an invalid, whose son

had to bear the responsibility for the homestead. One day
the son asked the father to do some little chores, but the old
man was weary, and his memory was failing, and he forgot.
When the son got home he inquired about the chores, and his
father said, “Son, I am sorry to admit it, but really I forgot.”
The son choked down his anger and said, “Never mind, Father,
I’ll attend to them.” He was turning to go to the barn when
the father called to him and said, “Oh, my boy, God bless you,
just because you are always so faithful to duty! You will never
know what a comfort you are to me, you are so faithful, my
son, to duty!”
When the son returned from doing the chores, and ad-
dressed the poor old man in the deep arm chair, there was no
response. In a moment the son discovered that, out of weari-
ness and pain, the tired old man had gone to that land where
“there shall be no more pain.” The sweetest memory that son
cherishes of his father are these words: “God bless you, my
boy! You are such a comfort to me, because you are always
so faithful to duty!” And this is the kind of spirit which is
inculcated by the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
A Canary in the Radio Studio
O NE morning I tuned my radio to a station that had a

canary in the studio. I do not think I ever heard a canary
sing more sweetly. From his small cage he was doing his best,
not knowing that his song was being heard beyond the walls
of that room. Yet thousands heard and were cheered.
What a lesson for Christians! Often we become discour-
aged and feel we do not have any talent. We feel that the
little we can do for Christ does not amount to anything. But
he does not judge us according to our abilities, but by our
faithfulness to him. He can take our little and magnify it into
something great and wonderful. Surely, we can work for his
glory and leave the results to him.
Mistaken Identity
A lame boy hurried to the passenger agent of a railway

station as fast as his crutches and the basket of fruit
and candy would permit. As the passengers rushed through
the gate, a young man accidentally hit the basket, knocking
oranges and apples in every direction. He stopped only long
enough to scold the boy for being in his way. Another young
man, who was passing by, saw the boy’s distress and began
picking up the fruit. As he placed it in the basket, he put a
silver dollar in the lame boy’s hand. With a “better luck next
time” and a smile, the young man went his way.
“Hey, mister,” called the little boy, “are you Jesus?”
“No,” answered his friend, “I’m only one of his followers.”
Many foreign missionaries have so closely followed Jesus
that their native friends believed that Jesus had lived among
them. The people whose lives we touch need to see Jesus in
our lives. Many people have never known what Jesus was
really like. Many will never understand his love unless they
see it in our deeds.
A Missed Opportunity
T HE middle-aged couple that entered the office of the

president of Harvard University that late-summer
morning were dressed in well-worn but neat clothes. When
they asked the secretary if they might see the president, she
informed them that he had appointments scheduled for the
entire day. “That’s all right,” the lady replied, “we’ll wait.”
Morning stretched into afternoon and the secretary was
ready to go home for the day. Still the couple waited pa-
tiently in the chairs of the outer office. Finally the secretary
called the president and mentioned that these people were
patiently waiting. “Can you possibly give them a few min-
utes?” she asked the president. “They seem determined to
wait all night.” “OK,” he answered, “send them in.”
The couple seemed out of place as they sat in the plush
chairs across from the university head. “What can I do for
you?” he asked solicitously. “Well,” they politely replied,
“our son was a student here last year and loved the univer-
sity. However, he was killed in an auto accident this summer
and we would like to dedicate a memorial to him on the
campus.”
Somewhat impatiently, the president interrupted, “We
already have more statues around this campus than we can
handle.” “We weren’t thinking of a statue,” was their answer,
“we thought possibly a building.” Looking at their humble
attire, the president said in a condescending tone, “Do you
know what a building costs?”
“No, how much?”
“About a million dollars,” they were informed.
“Oh, is that all?” the woman exclaimed, and turning to her
husband she said, “In that case, why don’t we start our own
university?”
And so they left the Harvard president’s office and journeyed
back to their home on the west coast. There, Mr. and Mrs. Le-
land Stanford built Stanford University in their son’s honor.
7
Take hold of
Instruction;
do not
let go
P ROV E R B S 4 :13
Refiner and Purifier of Silver

“He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver …”—Malachi 3:3
T HIS verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they

wondered what this statement meant about the character
and nature of God.
One of the women offered to find out the process of refining
silver and report to the group at their next Bible study. That
week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appoint-
ment to watch him at work. She didn’t mention anything
about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about
the process of refining silver.
As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over
the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver,
one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire, where the
flames were hottest, in order to burn away all the impurities.
The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot
spot. Then she thought again about the verse that says, “He
sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.”
She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit
there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being
refined. The man answered that, yes, he not only had to sit
there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the
silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a
moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.
The woman was silent for a moment.
Then she asked the silversmith, “How do you know when
the silver is fully refined?” He smiled at her and answered,
“Oh, that’s easy: when I see my image in it.”
If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that
God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until he
sees his image in you.
7 : Take hold of instruction; do not let go 99
Interview with God
I dreamed I had an interview with God.

“So you would like to interview me?” God asked.
“If you have the time,” I said.
God smiled. “My time is eternity. What questions do you
have for me?”
“What surprises you most about humankind?” I asked.
God answered :
“That they get bored with childhood. They rush to grow up
and then long to be children again.
“That they lose their health to make money and then lose
their money to restore their health.
“That by thinking anxiously about the future, they forget
the present, so that they live in neither the present nor the
future.
“That they live as if they will never die, and die as if they had
never lived.”
God took my hand and we were silent for awhile.
And then I asked, “As a parent, what are some of life’s les-
sons you want your children to learn?”
God replied with a smile:
“To learn they cannot make anyone love them. What they
can do is let themselves be loved.
“To learn that it is not good to compare themselves to
others.
“To learn that a rich person is not one who has the most, but
is one who needs the least.
“To learn that it only takes a few seconds to open profound
wounds in people they love, and it takes many years to heal
them.
“To learn to forgive by practicing forgiveness.
“To learn that there are people who love them dearly, but
simply do not know how to express or show their feelings.
“To learn that two people can look at the same thing and see
it differently.
“To learn that it is not enough that they be forgiven by oth-
ers, but that they must forgive themselves.
“And to learn that I am always here.”
Your Garden of Life

What have you planted in your garden of life?
It’s not too late to …
h Plant three rows of peas:
Peace of mind
Peace of heart
Peace of soul
h Plant four rows of squash:

Squash gossip
Squash indifference
Squash grumbling
Squash selfishness
h Plant four rows of lettuce:

Let us be faithful
Let us be kind
Let us be patient
Let us love one another
h No garden without turnips:

Turn up for meetings
Turn up for service
Turn up to help one another
h And you must have thyme:

Time for God
Time for family
Time for friends
h Water freely with patience and cultivate with love!

Remember, you reap what you sow.
I asked God to…

j Grant me patience. God said, No.
Patience is a by-product of tribulations; it isn’t granted,
it is earned.
j Give me happiness. God said, No.

I give you blessings. Happiness is up to you.
j Spare me pain. God said, No.

Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings
you closer to me.
j Make my spirit grow. God said, No.

You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to
make you fruitful.
j Help me enjoy life. God said, No.

I will give you life so that you may enjoy all things.
j Help me love others, as much as he loves me.

God said … Ahhhh, finally you have the idea!
Aqueducts Need Water
T RAVELERS in southern Europe will occasionally run across

some remains of ancient Roman architecture. Among
these are aqueducts. An interesting story is told of one such
aqueduct, built in the year 109 at Segovia, Spain. For eighteen
centuries it carried cool water from the mountains to the
thirsty city. Then the modern pipelines were laid, and the old
aqueduct was no longer used. Almost immediately it began
to fall apart. The dry mortar crumbled, stones loosened and
began to fall. A few years of idleness ruined what eighteen
centuries of service had not destroyed.
Tremendous power for good can be destroyed, sapped away,
by careless neglect or disuse. The servant with one talent was
denounced, not because he had stolen it or gambled it, but
because he had done nothing with it.
Guidance
W HEN I meditated on the word “guidance,” I kept seeing

“dance” at the end of the word. I remember reading that
doing God’s will is a lot like dancing. When two people try
to lead, nothing feels right. The movement doesn’t flow with
the music, and everything is uncomfortable and jerky. When
one person relaxes and lets the other lead, both bodies begin
to flow with the music. One gives gentle cues, perhaps with
a nudge to the back by pressing lightly in one direction or
another. It’s as if two become one body, moving beautifully.
Dance takes surrender, willingness, and attentiveness from
one person and gentle guidance and skill from the other. My
eyes drifted back to the word “guidance.” When I saw “G,” I
thought of God, followed by “u” and “i.” “God,” “u” and “i”
“dance.” God, you and I dance. This statement is what guid-
ance means to me. As I bowed my head, I became willing to
trust that I would get guidance about my life. Once again, I
became willing to let God lead.
Dance with God, trusting him to lead and to guide you
through each season of your life.
In a Minute
I F you asked Dora to do anything, she would reply, “In a

minute.” It was a bad habit she had. “Dora, go upstairs and
bring down my comb.” “Yes, Mother, in a minute.” “Dora,
come to dinner.” “In a minute.” One day Dora’s bird was
hopping about on the floor. Dora’s mother said, “Dora, shut
the door, or the cat will be after your bird.” “Yes, Mother, in
a minute,” said Dora. “I just want to finish my drawing.” But
the cat did not wait. In he came, and with a pounce he had the
bird in his mouth. Down went the drawing, and away went
cat, bird, and Dora. There was a wild chase out onto the lawn.
“In a minute,” Dora came back weeping with the dead bird in
her hand. Mother was sad, too, but said, “A great many things
may happen in a minute.” Dora never forgot that lesson.
Plant Geraniums Outside
T WO geranium plants were purchased at the same time.

One was planted out in the garden; the other was placed
in the cellar, beneath the house. Both plants were very closely
observed to see the effects which different environments
might have upon them.
At the end of a few weeks, the one in the cellar, which had
been safely sheltered from the elements — the hot sun, the
cold winds and the driving rains — had grown, yet not too
well. It was frail and scrawny, and its leaves, buds and flowers
were only partially developed.
On the other hand, the one planted outdoors, despite the
many inclemencies of the weather, was robust; its leaves,
buds and flowers were both beautiful and hardy.
God, in his dealings with us, could so ordain our provi-
dences that we would be protected from all the adversities
to which humankind are heir. But, with nothing to overcome,
how would we develop strength of character? Far better not
to importune our God for the “charmed” life, but rather to
let go, and let the LORD do with us “that which seemeth him
good!”
A. C. Frey
Don’t Walk
O F course we can read, yet we do not always understand

what we read. Often we approach a subject with precon-
ceived ideas and notions. A woman was visiting Washington,
D.C. One day she came to a traffic crossing where the sign
read, “Don’t Walk.” Immediately she stepped off the sidewalk
into the path of the oncoming traffic. The policeman blew his
whistle to attract her attention, then asked her if she was able
to read. She replied, “Of course, I can read.” Thereupon he
asked her, “Then why are you walking?” “Oh,” she said, “I saw
that sign, but I thought it was an ad for the bus company!”
A. C. Frey
The Liana Vines of Sin
I N the tropical forests of South America, where everything

climbs, and everything seeks to overcome everything else,
there is a curious class of plants to which the natives give the
name of lianas or bushropes. These creeping plants twine
around large trees in order to be lifted up above the dense
vegetation into the pure air and bright sunshine overhead.
Curiously, they will not cling to every kind of tree. They
seem to dislike trees with smooth stems and umbrella-shaped
crowns of foliage, and refuse to climb around them. The kind
of tree they prefer to twine around is one that is very tall, with
a rough bark and a slender crown of leaves at the top. You can
see that there is a wonderful wisdom in such a choice, for this
kind of tree is best suited for their purposes.
When the seed of one of these lianas is dropped by the wind
or by a bird at the foot of a suitable tree, the seed begins to
grow at once. At first it sends forth a slender thread-like stem
that leans upon the tree for support. At this stage it is soft and
tender, and looks like a vein of sap flowing and hardening as it
flows. A child’s finger could snap it with ease. But as it grows
and lengthens it becomes thicker and tougher, and twines
itself around the tree like a strongly twisted cable. It grasps
the tree tighter with time; and by and by the tree is strangled
by the thick bands, which only an ax could cut. The leaves of
the poor victim wither and fall off, the sap stops flowing, and
the tree slowly dies and becomes a stump of dry, rotten wood,
still clasped by its cruel enemy, which flourishes, green and
vigorous, upon its decay.
Now, my dear young friends, you are at the stage when the
seeds of evil habits are sown in your life. If encouraged, they
will grow quickly and twine around you, at last becoming
strong bands which you cannot break, and which will strangle
all your higher powers and destroy you. You must carefully
watch for sin’s small beginnings, and root it out immediately!
Always Copy the Original
I N my early school days, in order to develop good penman-

ship we were given what was then called a “copy book.” At
the top of each page, in beautiful script, was a motto such as
“All that glitters is not gold.” Thus, while practicing good pen-
manship we were being taught nobility of character, too. That
top line was the pattern we were to copy on the succeeding
five lines. The first copied line was always the best; it came
closer to the original — the pattern! The succeeding lines were
never as good, because instead of copying the pattern we
copied each previous line, thus gradually making poorer and
poorer copies. It is that way in life, too: instead of copying the
noblest pattern, Christ Jesus, we often copy “copies” — which
are never, never as worthy!
A. C. Frey
Clear Water Reflects Best
A S at many times before, I was trying to decide whether

the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount were prac-
tical. My thoughts went back to childhood days, when such
problems did not exist.
It was a mid-autumn evening. My mother and sister and
I sat in the courtyard in front of our house. We awaited the
rising of the autumn moon, which Mother had said would
be very beautiful. Soon the tranquil full moon gradu-
ally appeared, pouring silver light over the earth. But as it
rose higher and higher and we continued to gaze, our heads
bent backward until, as it reached its zenith, we were very
uncomfortable. Mother, seeing this, went into the house and
returned with an enamel basin which she filled with water.
Naturally, we saw the full moon reflected in the water. It was
pure, clear water that made the perfect reflection possible.
The memory of that scene makes clear to me why so often
we cannot feel the presence of God. Our minds are so full
of worldly desires that it makes the reflection of God’s light
impossible. Only a pure heart could preach the Sermon on the
Mount. Only a pure heart can truly live it.
Some Good Thoughts

This is the commencement speech given by
the writer Anna Quindlen to the graduates at
Villanova in June 2000.
I T ’ S a great honor for me to be the third member of my family

to receive an honorary doctorate from this great university.
It’s an honor to follow my great-uncle Jim, who was a gifted
physician, and my Uncle Jack, who is a remarkable business-
man. Both of them could have told you something important
about their professions, about medicine or commerce.
I have no specialized field of interest or expertise, which
puts me at a disadvantage, talking to you today. I’m a novelist.
My work is human nature. Real life is all I know. Don’t ever
confuse the two, your life and your work. The second is only
part of the first.
Don’t ever forget what a friend once wrote Senator Paul
Tsongas when the senator decided not to run for re-election
because he had been diagnosed with cancer: “No man ever
said on his deathbed, ‘I wish I had spent more time at the
office.’” Don’t ever forget the words my father sent me on a
postcard last year: “If you win the rat race, you’re still a rat.”
Or what John Lennon wrote before he was gunned down in
the driveway of the Dakota: “Life is what happens while you
are busy making other plans.”
You will walk out of here this afternoon with only one
thing that no one else has. There will be hundreds of people
out there with your same degree; there will be thousands of
people doing what you want to do for a living. But you will be
the only person alive who has sole custody of your life. Your
particular life. Your entire life. Not just your life at a desk, or
your life on a bus, or in a car, or at the computer. Not just the
life of your mind, but the life of your heart. Not just your bank
account, but your soul.
People don’t talk about the soul very much anymore. It’s so
much easier to write a resumé than to craft a spirit. But a re-
sumé is a cold comfort on a winter night, or when you’re sad,
or broke, or lonely, or when you’ve gotten back the test results
and they’re not so good.
Here is my resumé: I am a good mother to three children. I

have tried never to let my profession stand in the way of being
a good parent. I no longer consider myself the center of the
universe. I show up. I listen. I try to laugh. I am a good friend
to my husband. I am a good friend to my friends, and they
to me. Without them, there would be nothing to say to you
today, because I would be a cardboard cutout. But I call them
on the phone, and I meet them for lunch. I show up. I listen. I
try to laugh.
I would be rotten, or at best mediocre at my job, if those
other things were not true. You cannot be really first-rate at
your work if your work is all you are.
So here’s what I wanted to tell you today:
Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next pro-
motion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house. Do you think
you’d care so very much about those things if you blew an
aneurysm one afternoon, or found a lump in your breast? Get
a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself
on a breeze over Seaside Heights, a life in which you stop and
watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over the water, or the
way a baby scowls with concentration when she tries to pick
up a Cheerio with her thumb and first finger.
Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love,
and who love you. And remember that love is not leisure, it is
work. Pick up the phone. Send an e-mail. Write a letter. Get a
life in which you are generous.
And realize that life is the best thing ever, and that you have
no business taking it for granted. Care so deeply about its
goodness that you want to spread it around. Take money you
would have spent on beers and give it to charity. Work in a
soup kitchen. Be a big brother or sister.
All of you want to do well. But if you do not do good, too,
then doing well will never be enough. It is so easy to waste our
lives: our days, our hours, our minutes. It is so easy to take for
granted the color of our kids’ eyes, the way the melody in a
symphony rises and falls and disappears and rises again. It is so
easy to exist instead of live. I learned to live many years ago.
Something really, really bad happened to me, something
that changed my life in ways that, if I had my druthers, it
would never have been changed at all. And what I learned
from it is what, today, seems to be the hardest lesson of all. I

learned to love the journey, not the destination. I learned that
it is not a dress rehearsal, and that today is the only guarantee
you get. I learned to look at all the good in the world and try
to give some of it back because I believed in it completely and
utterly. And I tried to do that, in part, by telling others what I
had learned. By telling them this:
Consider the lilies of the field. Look at the fuzz on a baby’s
ear. Read in the backyard with the sun on your face. Learn
to be happy. And think of life as a terminal illness, because
if you do you will live it with joy and passion, as it ought to
be lived.
“Me Try Some More”
S H E was only a little tot. I was hurrying to catch a train, but

the lesson learned that morning was one I cannot soon
forget. This wee lassie was toddling along the icy walk as fast
as her little legs would carry her when she slipped and fell. Up
she got and trotted along, only to fall again. I came to her as
she was rising the second time. She raised her blue eyes and
said, “Me fell down; me hurt some; me try some more.”
Dear little preacher of good cheer! Only the night before, I
had fallen down. My desires had been utterly trampled and
I was thoroughly discouraged. I had no intention of trying
“some more.”
Her message went straight to my heart. I was “hurt some,”
but it might be well to “try some more.” And I did try, with a
blessed outcome.
And since then, the message of the little lassie has often
come to me with conviction:
“Me fell down; me hurt some; me try some more!”
A Lesson
Just think about this:
g Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
g Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
g Name the last five winners of the Miss America pageant.
g Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
g Name the last six Academy Award winners for best actor
or actress.
g Name the last decade’s World Series winners.
How did you do?
The Point: Many of us don’t remember the headliners of yes-
terday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best
in their fields. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achieve-
ments are forgotten.
Now see how you do on this one:

g List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
g Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult
time.
g Name five people who have taught you something worth-
while.
g Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated
and special.
g Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
g Name half a dozen heroes whose stories have inspired you.
Easier?
The Lesson: The people who make a difference in your life
are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money,
or the most awards. They are the ones who care.
I’ve learned that…

The best classroom in the world is at the feet of an elderly
person.
When you’re in love, it shows.
Having just one person say to me, “You’ve made my day!”
makes my day.
Having a child fall asleep in your arms is one of the most
peaceful feelings in the world.
Being kind is more important than being right.
You should never say “no” to a gift from a child.
I can always pray for someone when I don’t have the
strength to help him in any other way.
No matter how serious your life requires you to be, every-
one needs a friend to act goofy with.
Sometimes all a person needs is a hand to hold and a heart
to understand.
Simple walks with my father around the block on summer
nights when I was a child did wonders for me as an adult.
We should be glad God doesn’t give us everything we ask for.
Money doesn’t buy class.
It’s those small daily happenings that make life so spectacular.
Under everyone’s hard shell is someone who wants to be
appreciated and loved.
The Lord didn’t do it all in one day. What makes me think I can?
To ignore the facts does not change the facts.
When you plan to get even with someone, you are only let-
ting that person continue to hurt you.
Love, not time, heals all wounds.
The easiest way for me to grow as a person is to surround
myself with people smarter than I am.
Everyone you meet deserves to be greeted with a smile.
There’s nothing sweeter than sleeping with your babies

and feeling their breath on your cheek.
No one is perfect until you fall in love with them.
Life is tough, but I’m tougher.
Opportunities are never lost; someone will take the ones
you miss.
When you harbor bitterness, happiness will dock elsewhere.
I wish I could have told my dad that I love him one more
time before he passed away.
One should keep his words both soft and tender, because
tomorrow he may have to eat them.
A smile is an inexpensive way to improve your looks.
I can’t choose how I feel, but I can choose what I do about it.
When your newly-born child holds your little finger in his
little fist, you’re hooked for life.
It is best to give advice in only two circumstances: when it
is requested and when it is a life-threatening situation.
The less time I have to work with, the more things I get
done.
Everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the
happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it.
Apples or Chips
A father saw his son reading a novel. He knew that his

son was in the habit of such unprofitable reading. Call-
ing the boy, he said, “John, I wish you to empty the apples
out of that basket, and then take the basket to the woodshed
and fill it with chips.” The son did as he was directed. When
he returned, the father said, “Now put in the apples.” The son
replied that he could not do this, because there was not room
enough in the basket for both chips and apples. Then the fa-
ther said, “That is just what you are about to do with your
mind. You have been filling your mind with chips; and when
you try to put in apples, there will be no room.” Thus it is with
all of us. If we fill our minds with jokes, foolish sayings and
such, we will not be able to fill them with the things of the Holy
Spirit (Ephesians 5:1-7).
The Heavens Make Us Small
T H E naturalist William Beebe tells of visits he made to The-

odore Roosevelt, another naturalist. After an evening’s
talk in Roosevelt’s home at Sagamore Hill, the two men would
go out on the lawn and gaze up at the sky. The first of them to
detect the first spot of light-mist beyond the lower left-hand
corner of the Great Square of Pegasus would recite:
“That is the Spiral Galaxy of Andromeda.
It is as large as our Milky Way.
It is one of a hundred million galaxies.
It is 750,000 light-years away!
It consists of one hundred billion stars, each larger than our
own sun.”
After an interval, Beebe reports, Mr. Roosevelt would grin
at him and say, “Now I think we are small enough; let’s go
to bed!”
Beauty Tips
g For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
g For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
g For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
g For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through
it once a day.
g For poise, walk with the knowledge that you’ll never walk
alone.
g People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed,
revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anybody.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand you’ll find one at
the end of your arm. As you grow older you will discover that
you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for
helping others.
g The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the fig-
ure she possesses, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty
of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway
to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a
woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lov-
ingly gives, the passion that she shows. And the beauty of a
woman only grows with passing years.
Audrey Hepburn
Michelangelo’s Shadow
I is said that Michelangelo placed a lighted candle on his

T
cap while at work, that his shadow might not fall upon his
creation. How the shadows of self mar the pictures that we
try to paint! How they obscure the angel which we try to
chisel from the block of marble! How selfishness dwarfs the
character!
Handle with Care

Part I
S O M E people use their Bibles as repositories for all manner

of things. Many women keep dead flowers in them. Do
you suppose it is because they know that those precious flow-
ers will not be disturbed in that Book, and that they will be
safe there from damage? Let them find books of philosophy
and therein keep their flowers. But let every Bible be so heav-
ily used that nothing is safe in it except its reader’s heart and
mind.
Some people like the soft feel of a genuine leather binding,
and will use their Bibles as coasters for their Sunday afternoon
beers, or sit an ashtray upon them because the textured sur-
face keeps it from slipping and sliding around. Others display
them proudly on their coffee tables, so that their friends and
neighbors will know that they are reverent, but then they will
scream at their children for touching them.
Many Bibles are so overstuffed with papers and cards and
old church bulletins and notes and the occasional pencil,
with pictures of the grandkids and newspaper clippings, fu-
neral and wedding announcements, that you just know those
people couldn’t possibly be actually sitting down and reading
those books.
More often than not, Bibles are found at the bottoms of stacks
of other books. Far too often does the preacher hear, “Well, I
know it’s around here somewhere…” Every Christian should
know, not where his Bible is, but where his Bibles are.
Part II
O CCASIONALLY you walk into someone’s home and you see
a well-cared for Bible, yet it is so worn from heavy use
that the color of its cover has faded. Raw leather shows at the
corners, yet its pages are neither torn nor wrinkled.
If you should walk into someone’s home and see such a
Bible, pick it up and open it — carefully, please. In it you will
find many notes, written in small letters so that there is room

for more. You will find whole passages marked, rather than
the single verses that we’ve all been taught to memorize in our
youth. You will never find anything else lying atop that Bible,
except perhaps a pair of glasses.
Now, that person will not have the distracted look of a har-
ried person, but the peaceful gaze of a contented soul. There
will be joy in his or her eyes that fairly sparkles with vibrant
electricity. The merest glance will tell you that here is a person
at peace with himself and at peace with the world. Most of all,
at peace with God.
Imagine, just a single glance at a well-worn Bible will estab-
lish in your heart a connection with that person faster than
any other thing.
Let your Bibles become the most highly-prized treasures in
your home. Let them be treated with the careful attention that
the Word of God deserves. Handle them with great care, but
handle them often.
8
Watch over your
Heart
with all
Diligence
P ROV E R B S 4 : 2 3
To all my dear family and all my dear friends:

These maxims and quotations were collected over a period
of thirty years. They were taken from newspapers, maga-
zines, radio messages, and Bible conference speakers. It was
only lately that they were sorted out to be best presented in
their proper groupings.
Some friends asked me for copies of these maxims and
quotations. It was then that I asked my friend, Mr. Bradley
Hedman, to assist in sorting the entries into categories. His
assistance throughout this undertaking is very much ap-
preciated.
As you read these maxims and quotations, you will notice
that I did not use any proverbs from the Bible. I thought it
would be more appropriate not to intermix the Proverbs with
the sayings of man. The Proverbs themselves are inspired by
God and merit a place of their own.
Someone once said, “Nothing new is said in these maxims
and quotations that was not said before — they appear and
reappear dressed in different garments.”
Carl F. Schrade
December 1989
8 : Watch over your heart with all diligence 119
Accusations
Clean your fingers before pointing them at someone else.
Some people live in the accusative case — always finding
fault.
If the bad things they say about you are true, mend your
ways. If they’re not true, then forget it and go on doing
what’s right.
Achievement
Great achievements are but the accumulation of conquered
difficulties.
To do just a little bit more and a little bit better is the secret
of achieving excellence.
All of man’s gains are the fruit of venturing.
What counts is not the number of hours you put in, but how
much you put in the hours.
The only way to make sure you are not moving backward
is to move forward.
Genius is not spontaneous combustion; it is a trail of sparks
from a grindstone.
Yesterday’s dreams are today’s achievements and tomor-
row’s history.
Each accomplishment makes the next task easier.
It is of no profit to begin many things and bring none to
an end.
Notice the gain in confidence upon accomplishing a tire-
some labor.
Knowledge may give weight, but accomplishment gives
luster — and more people look at a thing than weigh it.
Actions
One good idea put to use is better than a dozen ideas on a
shelf.
Business is like a wheelbarrow: it stands still until some-
one pushes it.
Chop your own wood and it will warm you twice.
All the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a

single lovely action.
The smallest good deed is better than the grandest intention.
Sincerity is validated by actions rather than words.
Well done is better than well said.
Actions speak louder than words — but not as often.
Thinking too long about a project often becomes its
undoing.
The only ideas that will work for you are the ones you put
to work.
No matter what your lot in life is, build something on it.
The significance of life is not determined by its dura-
tion — it’s determined by its donation.
Anybody who waits for his ship to come in is apt to miss
the boat.
Being on the right track won’t get you anywhere if you just
sit there.
We cannot do everything at once, but we can do some-
thing at once.
We have committed the Golden Rule to memory; let us
now commit it to life.
Advice
When giving advice to a destitute person, put your advice
in a sandwich.
Be cautious in giving advice: wise men don’t need it, and
fools don’t heed it.
Be ruled by time, the wisest counselor of all.
A good scare often does more good than advice.
Even a pastor needs a pastor to whom he can go for advice.
The best way to succeed in life is to act on the advice we
give to others.
Aging
It is not how old you are but how you are old.
Some people, no matter how old they get, never lose their
beauty: they merely move it from their face to their heart.
As youth grow older, they revert somewhat to the tradi-
tional ways.
It’s only when a man stops learning that he begins to grow
old.
Age is an example of mind over matter: if you don’t mind,
it doesn’t matter.
How to grow old gracefully? Put your life in God’s care
unreservedly.
I’d better not be wasting time, or time is wasting me.
Birthdays are guaranteed age increases.
Ambition
The man who never made a mistake never made anything
worthwhile.
Ambition is a noble comrade but a dangerous master.
Everyone must make his own place in the world — there is
none who will do it for you.
Ninety percent of ambition goes up the chimney.
Anger
People who fly into a rage always make a bad landing.
If you have reason to be angry, do not make a spectacle of
yourself.
A show of anger ruins good relations with others.
An insult is like mud — it will brush off much easier when
dry. Wait a little and things will mend more easily.
“A soft answer turns away wrath” is the best system of self-
defense.
You can’t lose your head without losing face.
The root of bitterness is anger kept inside.
Every time you give another person a “piece of your mind,”

you add to your own vacuum.
Never tell a person off in anger. Play it cool.
The surest way to help a man defeat you is to get angry at
him.
When you have written a wrathful letter — put it in the fire.
Appreciation
Don’t let your parents down — they brought you up.
There is not a more rewarding exercise of the mind than
gratitude.
The world of Nature is a beautiful book, but it is of little use
to him who cannot read it.
All our discontents spring from lack of thankfulness for
what we have.
Be quick to give credit to others, especially to those who
serve unheard and unseen away from the spotlight.
Never look a gift horse in the mouth.
The thankless heart is always an unhappy heart.
Take time to show appreciation — thanks is the frosting on
the cake.
Forget injuries; never forget kindness.
If you confer a benefit, never remember it; if you receive
one, never forget it.
There is no better liberality than that of gratitude and
thankfulness.
It would be nice if we would forget our troubles as easily as
we forget our blessings.
Attitude
Grow antennae, not horns.
If you keep on saying “Things are bad,” you have a good
chance of being a prophet.
Change yourself and your work will seem different.
Growl all day and you’ll be dog-tired at night.

Two men looked through prison bars: one saw mud, the
other, stars.
You can’t hold a man down without staying down with
him.
Any person who is always feeling sorry for himself, should be.
People are usually down on what they are not up to.
I can alter my life by altering my attitude of mind.
The art of pleasing consists in being pleased.
It is impossible to grow in grace if we have hardening of the
attitudes.
Faultfinders never improve the world — they only make it
seem worse than it really is.
Imagined injuries are the hardest to heal.
It is not your position that makes you unhappy, it is your
disposition.
Hatred is a boomerang which is sure to hit you harder than
the one you threw it at.
There’s no difference between a stumbling block and a step-
ping-stone except in how you use them.
Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent
how you take it.
If one looks for faults in others, he will find them.
Good depends not on things but on the use we make of
things.
An optimist laughs to forget; a pessimist forgets to laugh.
The man who takes the world philosophically can never be
permanently beaten.
Bible
There is no better book with which to defend the Bible than
the Bible itself.
I have read many books, but the Bible reads me.
Do not criticize the Bible — let the Bible criticize you.
When the reading of the Bible makes you feel comfortable

at all times, you are reading it wrong.
The Bible’s horizon is eternity.
When considering Bible doctrines, let us not consider prom-
inent Bible expositors to be the highest court of appeal.
God’s words are worth much and cost little.
When the Bible speaks, the argument is over.
The Bible will not be revealed with its covers closed.
The best evidence of the Bible being the word of God is to
be found between its covers.
What food is to the body, the Bible is to the soul.
The Bible that is falling apart usually belongs to a person
who isn’t.
The Bible is the book above all others to be read at all ages
and in all circumstances of life.
The Bible has a proper counsel for every conflict in life.
Boasting
They love least who speak about their love the most.
People who tell others how early they rise in the morning
act like roosters and crow about it.
Boast not when putting the harness on; wait till it comes
off when the work is done.
Budget
The trouble with the budget is, it won’t budge.
If the expense exceeds the income, the upkeep will be the
downfall.
Beware of little expenses. A small leak may sink a big ship.
Appreciate the pennies and the dollars will follow.
Burden
It is not the load that wears us down, it is the way we carry it.
No matter what scale we use, we can never know the

weight of another man’s burden.
Challenge
Nothing will ever be attempted if all possible objection
must first be removed.
No man knows what he can do till he tries.
Obstacles placed in our way often prove whether we truly
wanted something or just thought we did.
Don’t let the failures of yesterday spoil your opportunity to
do better today.
Setbacks pave the way for comebacks.
To a strong man, opposition is a challenge which goads him
on to victory.
Change
The best reformers the world has ever known are those
who began with themselves.
Nothing is permanent but change.
One can’t change a person from the outside. Change comes
from the inside.
Character
Character is what you are when no one is watching.
The character development of a person starts in the crib.
Character is the sum total of all our habits, whether good
or bad.
Money lost, little lost. Reputation lost, more is lost. Cour-
age lost, much is lost. Character lost, all is lost.
Virtue withers away if it has no opposition.
Search others for their virtues, yourself for your vices.
If you want to discover what is in a man, give him power; it
will either make him or break him.
Character is property; it is the noblest of possessions.
Nature forms, school informs, sin deforms, flesh conforms,

and Christ transforms.
With man as with apples, it’s hard to polish the outside if
the inside is rotten.
There is no better test of a man’s character than his behav-
ior when he is wrong.
Thoughts, words, and actions are the components that
form the character. Thoughts conceive, words propel, and
deeds form a habit — and habit establishes the character.
What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny
matters compared to what lies within us.
A Christian character is not inherited; each individual must
build it for himself.
Character is made up of small duties faithfully performed.
A godly character is more important than spiritual gifts and
abilities.
Cheerfulness
No one ruined his eyesight by looking at the bright side
of life.
Face the sunshine and the shadows will fall behind you.
Cheerfulness and contentment are great beautifiers and
preservers of youthful looks.
Optimism is the cheerful frame of mind that enables you
to sing like a teakettle when you’re up to your chin in hot
water.
T he A B C of a C h r i s t i a n : A l w ay s B e C he e r f ul.
— 1 Thessalonians 5:16
Cheerfulness is the principle ingredient of good health.
Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.
That load becomes easy which is cheerfully borne.
Being well-adjusted is doing with a smile what you have to
do anyway.
Cheerfulness is the atmosphere in which all good things
thrive.
Cheerfulness is contagious, but don’t wait to catch it from

others — be a carrier.
Choice
God has never put anyone in a place too small to grow in.
The door to the human heart can be opened only from the
inside.
You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.
Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice. It
is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.
I can complain because rosebushes have thorns, or I can
rejoice because rosebushes have roses.
Consider the bed you are making for yourself; it’s the bed
you will lie in.
There is a place in the world for every man and a man for
every place. The secret is in securing the right man for the
right place.
If you don’t scale the mountain you can’t see the view.
Love cannot be imposed by force; it must be accepted by
the heart.
What you are to be, you are becoming now.
We are today only what we made ourselves yesterday.
Commitment
The greatness of a man’s accomplishments is the measure
of his commitments.
Where there is a will, there is a way.
Some Christians major in the minor and minor in the major.
When you do not start the day with God, you need not
wonder when it does not end with God.
It does not take a great man to do great things. It just takes
dedication and commitment.
Too many Christians have set aside the sweet by-and-by in
favor of the disappointing here-and-now.
It is one thing to be in the truth, and another thing for the

truth to be in us.
Dedication and commitment are the ingredients of a suc-
cessful life.
“Almost” never made it.
Compassion
To understand is to pardon.
There is no better loan than a sympathetic ear.
Understanding and compassion are needed to have a good
relationship with others.
There are three ways of seeing: seeing with our physical
eye, seeing with our mind, and seeing with our heart.
Men do not care how much you know, unless they know
how much you care.
Don’t touch the wounded heart; rather anoint, bind up and
heal.
Conscience
Conscience is God’s presence in man.
So live, that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot
to the town gossip.
Conscience is that still, small voice that is sometimes too
loud for comfort.
In matters of conscience the law of majority has no place.
Isn’t it odd how people who wrestle with their conscience
often try for two falls out of three?
The thought of the slightest infraction of justice on one’s
part should ring the loudest bells of alarm in the heart and
head of every child of God.
Sensitivity to sin gets desensitized whenever we stifle our
conscience, eventually losing its response to wrongdoing.
Pertinent truth about saintly living may touch a raw nerve.
If it does, be glad and keep it tender: it is a warning sign of
approaching danger.
Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, man’s conscience

is the oracle of God.
Consecration
He who is true to God will be true to man.
It takes more than a reel and a rod to make a fisherman,
and it takes more than a Bible and a Sunday suit to make a
Christian.
Consecration means burning the bridges behind you. It is a
way with no return.
Christianity is the only place where surrender brings victory.
A true Christian is as careful how he speaks and lives in his
home as how he acts among the brethren.
To will what God wills, this brings peace.
It will not be easy to brainwash the washed heart.
Lord, may I see you more clearly, love you more dearly, and
follow you more nearly.
Living the Gospel is a full-time job.
Contentment
Be thankful for what you have not.
He that has little and wants less is richer than he that is rich
and wants more.
Contentment consists not in great wealth but in few wants.
True contentment is getting out of any situation what there
is in it.
It is not the greatness of a man’s means that makes him
independent so much as the smallness of his wants.
A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which
he can afford to leave alone.
If you don’t like your job, quit; otherwise, shut up.
The secret of contentment is knowing how to enjoy what
you have, and being able to lose all desire for things beyond
your means.
Be content without being smug.
Contentment is to take life as it is and make the best of it,

trusting in God for the future.
To be content with little is difficult, but to be content with
much is impossible.
Our luxuries are always masquerading as necessities.
Courage
The man who dares to fight someone stronger has already
won half the battle.
Reality may be a rough road, but escape is a precipice.
Don’t be afraid to take a big step. You cannot cross a chasm
in two small jumps.
The highest degree of courage is seen in those that are fear-
ful but refuse to let fear defeat them.
Courage is the primary human quality; without it, all other
character qualities would fail.
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear — not absence
of fear.
Criticism
Be generous with praise, cautious with criticism.
Criticism does not change people; kindness and apprecia-
tion do.
People ask for criticism but they hope to hear praise.
In correcting, point to that which is right more than to that
which is wrong.
It is much easier to be critical than correct.
When rejecting the ideas of another, make sure you reject
only the idea and not the person.
The goal of criticism is to leave the person with the feeling
that he has been helped.
When we must criticize, let it be humbly, in the spirit of
helpfulness — not to boost our own image.
It’s easy to be critical — the real test is to come up with con-
structive alternatives.
Instead of pointing a critical finger, hold out a helping hand.

Make it a habit never to be critical about small things.
Deception
The large print giveth and the small print taketh away.
It is an illusion to talk of love and peace while the hands are
holding weapons of destruction.
We may fool others. We may even fool ourselves. But we
can never fool God.
Some people can paint, with their tongues, the foulest
deeds in fairest colors.
All that glitters is not gold.
You may fool all the people some of the time, and some of
the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all
the time.
With how much ease we believe what we wish to believe.
Resentment is hatred dressed in a tuxedo.
Often the chip on a person’s shoulder is “bark.”
If the advertisement or sales pitch seems too good to be
true, then it usually is.
The greater the avowals, the smaller the truth.
Decisions
Don’t jump on the bandwagon until you’ve heard the music.
Decisions are too often made by a guess, a stab in the dark,
or by emotionally-loaded judgments.
Never make a decision when angry.
Defeat
He who seeks fun as an end in itself will find in it an end
of himself.
He who throws dirt only manages to lose ground.
Irritation in the heart of a believer is always an invitation to
the devil to stand by.
It is the tendency of human nature to act impetuously at

times, overriding the virtue of prudence.
Defeat is not bitter if you don’t swallow it.
People who fight fire with fire usually end up with ashes.
In quarreling, truth is always lost.
The only thing worse than a quitter is the man who’s
afraid to begin.
Complacent and comfortable Christians don’t need hymns
of spiritual warfare — they are already casualties.
Violence in the voice is usually the death rattle of reason.
To the timid and hesitating everything is impossible be-
cause it seems so.
One great obstacle to happiness is expecting too much.
Dependency
No man is an island.
No one is rich enough to do without a neighbor.
Charity is injurious unless it helps the recipient to become
independent of it.
There is no such thing as a lone ranger Christian.
Diligence
Work is the yeast that raises the dough.
There may be good fortune in getting a good job, but not
in keeping it.
He who waits upon fortune is never sure of a dinner.
Trifles make perfection; perfection is no trifle.
A second-class effort is a first-class mistake.
The person who wants to work finds a way; the other finds
an excuse.
There is nothing so worthless as an unlocked lock.
Anything that is worth doing is worth doing well.
Discipline
Strength comes from struggle, weakness from ease.
Plan your work and then work your plan.
If I don’t practice one day, I notice it; if two days, my friends
notice it; if three days, the public notices it.
Practice is the best of all instructors.
Meekness is power under control.
Whoever tries for great objectives must suffer something.
A persistently right life is a consistently bright life.
There is no shortcut in developing character and spiritual
muscle — it takes discipline.
As a twig is bent, so will it grow.
Too much time spent in complaining leaves too little time
for doing.
In time, reluctant practice becomes relaxed habit.
No life ever grows great until it is focused, dedicated,
disciplined.
Duty
In doing what we ought to do we deserve no praise, be-
cause it is our duty.
Always do right. This will gratify some people and aston-
ish the rest.
Ease
He is no man as man should be, who never saw adversity.
All sunshine makes a desert.
There’s nothing harder to stand than rows of days in
leisure spent.
Education
The midnight oil that modern students burn is gasoline.
Children need models more than they need critics.
A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influ-

ence stops.
It is better to have an educated heart than an educated
mind.
The philosophy in the classroom is the philosophy of the
government in the next generation.
If you want your son to become a man you must begin
before he is a man.
Education is hard work, but it can be made interesting
work.
Efficiency
Don’t tell me how hard you work, show me some of your
accomplishments.
A committee is a group of people who keep minutes and
waste hours.
The quickest way to do many things is to do one thing at
a time.
Beside the noble art of getting things done, there is the
noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life
consists in the elimination of non-essentials.
Precious time should not be wasted over worthless
matters.
The more a person has to do the more he is able to accom-
plish — he has learned to economize his time.
The best way to get rid of unpleasant duties is to discharge
them immediately.
Emotions
The easiest way out of an emotional slump is to begin to
do good, profitable and worthy things that add meaning
to life.
Never attach yourself too closely to anything, in order to
let go if Providence takes it from you.
It is not so much what we say as how we say it.
Nothing is little to him that feels it with great sensibility.
Empathy
No doctor is a good doctor who has not been sick himself.
He best can pity who has felt the woe.
Patience is mindful of its own imperfections, and sympa-
thetic with the imperfections and shortcomings of others.
He who cannot weep does not know how to still the tears
of others.
Encouragement
Corrections do much, encouragements do more.
A pat on the back often pushes out the chest.
Genuine praise lends a gentle touch to criticism.
A great thing we can give is encouragement.
It is a privilege to give a cheerful word at all times.
When criticizing say “we,” when complimenting say “you.”
Give a criticism in private, a compliment in public.
If defeated, carry no bitterness in your heart. New flowers
of hope will spring forth from the ashes of defeat. There has
never been a hero with no defeats, either before or after the
victory.
The men and women who are lifting the world upward
and onward are those who encourage more than criticize.
Endurance
When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and
hang on.
No one can endure hardness if there is no hardness to en-
dure; no one can overcome without obstacles to overcome.
When things get rough, remember: it’s the rubbing that
brings out the shine.
A tree with the deepest roots is the least likely to topple.
Enthusiasm
Boredom is a disease that erodes initiative and shrivels
personality.
You can make friends easier in a month by being inter-
ested in them, than in ten years trying to get them interested
in you.
Enthusiasm is the match that lights the candle of achievement.
None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.
Error
It is many times harder to dislodge an error than it is to ac-
cept one.
It is harder to unlearn an error than to learn the truth.
Custom may lead men into error, but it justifies none.
Example
No one knows of your honesty unless you supply some
examples.
It is harder to exemplify values than to teach them.
One of the greatest gifts that man has ever known is moral
courage.
One example is worth a thousand arguments.
A great deal of instruction is negated by a bad example.
Be what you wish others to become.
You can preach a better sermon with your life than with
your lips.
Excuse-making
He that is good for making excuses is seldom good for any-
thing else.
Excuses are a testimony of failure.
Those who make the worst use of their time are the first to
complain about its shortage.
Alibis are like weeds: once you start growing them, they
may become your only crop.
We credit our successes to ourselves, our failures to others.
He who excuses himself accuses himself.
He who complains about boredom gives his own testimony
of his inner emptiness and lack of interest.
Experience
A page of history is worth a volume of logic.
Our growth depends not in how many experiences we
have but how we profit by them.
Life is measured by thoughts and actions, not by time.
Experiences of the past should be guideposts, not hitching
posts.
Some people change their ways when they see the light
— others only when they feel the heat.
Many of our acts are motivated by wishful thinking, only
to show us there is no substitute for disciplined realism.
Don’t judge your friend until you stand in his place.
No wise man ever wished to be younger.
Some experiences cannot be described — they can only
be felt.
A man used to vicissitudes is not easily dejected.
No man’s knowledge in this life can go beyond his experience.
Only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches.
Most people don’t believe in a water shortage until their
well runs dry.
Failure
Failure is the path of least resistance.
He who considers too much performs too little.
A failure is a man who has blundered but is not able to cash
in on the experience.
The road to failure is paved with many good intentions.
When success turns a man’s head, he is facing failure.

Failures can be divided between those who thought and
never did, and those who did and never thought.
A person who works for himself exclusively is in a very
small business.
To muse means to think; to amuse means to kill time.
When Christians fight, Satan stays neutral while supplying
ammunition to both sides.
Faith
Hope is wishing for a thing to come true. Faith is believing
that it will come true.
Great faith can be shown only in great trials.
Faith makes all things possible; love makes all things
easier.
Faith is deaf to doubts, dumb to discouragements, and
blind to impossibilities.
Faith in the promises of God is the heart-beat of a Chris-
tian’s existence.
Faith is the bird singing to greet the dawn while it is
still dark.
Where there is no vision the people perish.
To see God in everything makes life the greatest adventure
there is.
Faith in things unseen requires a simple childlike trust.
Faith is a commitment to God in the everyday things of
life.
True belief is faith in action, otherwise it is only a mental
exercise.
Let not the pressure of everyday life stifle God’s eternal
promises.
Sorrow looks back, worry looks around, faith looks up.
Faith is risking that God’s Word is true after all.
True faith sees the invisible, believes the incredible, and
receives the impossible.
With God, nothing shall be impossible.

True Christians believe with intensity of conviction.
True religion is not difficult, esoteric or obscure — just
simple, plain faith.
Earthly possessions have no glitter in the presence of the
precious promises of God’s Word.
Believe and receive, or doubt and go without.
Through God we can turn our endings into beginnings.
God on one’s side is a majority.
If you take God into your confidence, he will take you into
his confidence.
A Christian is happier in a prison cell with Christ than in a
palace without him.
Falsehood
Always speak the truth and you’ll never worry about your
memory.
A half-truth often does more damage than a lie.
A truth that’s told with bad intent beats all the lies one can
invent.
A lie has no legs to stand on, but it has wings to fly near
and far.
Lies have short legs: people catch up with them.
The bigger the lie, the greater the audience.
Those who think it permissible to tell white lies soon grow
color blind.
He who spins a fish story will be caught in his own net.
There is no such thing as a little white lie, whether big or
small, or only an intentional shading of the truth. Degree
is incidental: even a truth is a lie if told with an intent to
deceive.
Caricatures tend to exaggerate and distort facts.
Partial truths are the adversary’s bait, error is the hook,
and sophistry the line to draw God’s children away from the
foundation of truth.
Family
The family fireside is the best of schools.
Adolescence is the age at which children stop asking ques-
tions because they know all the answers.
The father is the head of the family, the mother is the
heart.
The best investment is time spent on your children.
The greatest aid to adult education is children.
Home is a place that our feet may leave but not our hearts.
He who forgets that he once was a child makes a poor
father.
Parents are persons who spend half their time worrying
how a child will turn out, and the rest of their time when it
will turn in.
Sometime in your life your family will be all that you have
left. Treat them right.
Children are likely to live up to what you believe of them.
All parents become apprentices in raising children, from
which they never fully graduate as experts.
Parents should not give an inch and require a yard in return.
The best thing parents can do for their children is to love
each other as a living example.
Charity begins at home. All good deeds should begin under
the home-roof.
It is easy to become a parent, but very difficult to be one.
Only the best behavior is good enough for daily use in the
home.
There is no better place to prove our ability to rule our spirit
than in the home.
Communication and prayer are the nuts and bolts that hold
the family together.
What is done to children, they will do to society.
Time should never be considered more important than the
needs of another.
Faults
Faults are thick where love is thin.
Ten thousand of the greatest faults in our neighbors are
of less consequence to us than one of the smallest faults in
ourselves.
The greatest of all faults is to be conscious of none.
The other person’s faults, like another’s headlights, appear
more glaring than ours.
Try to find solutions, not faults.
Before you flare up at anyone’s faults, take time to count to
ten — ten of your own faults.
Correct your faults while they are little: it’s easier to pull
seedlings than to chop trees.
Fear
Boldness in most cases is a mask to hide fear.
Fear brings more pain than does the pain it fears.
The anticipation of a task is often harder than the task
itself.
Fear is one of the Devil’s favorite weapons.
Fellowship
Associate with men of good quality if you esteem your
own reputation.
It brings comfort to have companions in whatever happens.
Choose your companions with care — you become what
they are.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Being alone with God is better than being in a crowd
without him.
Tell me with whom you associate and I’ll tell you what
you are.
Beware of clique attitudes that make the less fortunate feel
like social lepers; remember we are all born equal.
Iron sharpens iron.

Charm strikes the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Character cannot be obtained in solitude; it is developed
in society.
To get along with others, one has to give and take — better
yet, to give more than take.
Keep good company or none.
Be flexible in your relations with others, as long as it does
not violate your conscience and the principles of godliness.
Flattery
Some people who slap you on the back are trying to help
you swallow what they just told you.
Fools
The bigger the mouth the greater the vacuum.
There is no fool so great as a knowing fool.
A foolish man does not mince his words; a wise man con-
siders his words.
Fools have their words on their tongues; the wise have
their words in their hearts.
The man who acts as his own lawyer has a fool for a client.
It is part of human nature to think wisely and still act
foolishly.
One can easily wreck in a day or two what builders have
taken a year to do.
A lot of trouble is caused by a narrow mind with a wide
mouth.
Empty trucks make the loudest noise.
Forgiveness
An unforgiving man cannot live in fellowship with a for-
giving God.
To err is human, to forgive is divine.
Learn to forgive. You will never be happy with bitterness

in your heart.
Confession of sin is the soil in which forgiveness flour-
ishes.
Forgiveness is often a two-way street.
There are a few men who can forgive their enemies, but it
takes a great man to forget them.
Forgiveness is a pleasant thing — it warms the heart and
cools the sting.
Doing injury puts you below your enemy. Revenging him
makes you even. Forgiving him sets you above him.
To be wronged is nothing unless you continue to remem-
ber it.
Don’t put someone down unless it’s on a prayer list.
It is impossible for a healthy mind to completely forget an
offense, but we can and should keep it buried so as not to
hurt self and others.
There is one remedy to ease life and make it happier: it is to
forgive and keep on forgiving.
It is far better to forgive and forget than to resent and
remember.
“I cannot forget” is but another way of saying “I will not
forgive.”
Fortune
Fortune is like glass: the more it glitters the easier it breaks.
Fortune is easier to get than to keep.
Fortune does not change men, it only unmasks them.
Friendship
Friendship is to be purchased only by friendship.
The only way to have a friend is to be one yourself.
Make it a principle in your life to show your friends how
much they mean to you.
Prosperity makes friends; adversity tries them.

Keep a fair-sized cemetery in which to bury the faults of
your friends.
He whose hand is clasped in friendship cannot throw mud.
Friends are made by many acts and lost by only one.
The ornament of the home is the friend who frequents it.
Be loyal to your friends, defending them when criticized.
Honor your friends’ confidence.
There is no better relation than a prudent and faithful
friend.
True friendship does not lose its smile when asked to walk
a second mile.
A good friend is like a plant: don’t kill the friend by pulling
all the weeds.
Friendship is like a garden: it must be cultivated to be
enjoyed.
A patched-up friendship is not as it was before — the patch
will be showing.
The most called-upon prerequisite of a friend is an
accessible ear.
Pick your friends, but not to pieces.
True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends but
in the worth and choice of them.
Don’t pick petals from a flowering friendship.
A sorrow shared lifts half the burden; a joy shared is twice
the joy.
Friendship must be kept in constant repair.
Real friends are those who, when you have made a fool of
yourself, don’t feel that you have done a permanent job.
Be to his virtues very kind, to his faults a little blind.
No friendship is strong enough to get along unless it can
take faults for granted.
Respect the privacy of your friends. No matter how close
you are, don’t pry when response is lacking.
The friends who are most stimulating to us are those who
disagree with us.
God
Whatever you love more than God is your idol.
Godlike love never gives up when human nature fails.
Culture without religion lacks depth and direction.
Every sunrise is a message from God, and every sunset his
signature.
The Lord looks down on us, if we look up.
We can never out-love God.
God’s people are often more concerned over their present
circumstances than over God’s ultimate purposes.
God is still in the business of confounding the wisdom and
power of man.
Gossip
Don’t listen to gossip — you may be the next one.
He who tells on others shows his own lack of trust-
worthiness.
A gossip is one who can give you all the details without
knowing any of the facts.
Of tale makers and tale bearers, one is as bad as the other.
No glue can match the stickiness of rumors once they get
a hold.
The difference between gospel and gossip is that the gospel
is good news, while gossip is bad news.
So live, that if anyone speaks ill of you, none will believe it.
Greatness
Life’s great question is not only how did you bear yourself
in defeat, but how did you bear yourself in victory.
Greatness is an aggregation of minutiae.
It is better to take many injuries than to injure others.
Some men work only with their hands, others with their
heads, others with their hearts. A great man works with all
of these.
Turning the cheek means to return good for evil.
The true worth of a man is to be measured by that which
he pursues.
Better to be nobly remembered than nobly born.
They are never alone that are accompanied by noble
thoughts.
The greatest man in the world is not the man who accumu-
lates the most money or the most power; it is not the man
who takes the most out of life — it is the man who gives the
most to life.
No one is a true nobleman by birth; but he is a noble man
who has attained the largeness of character that regards all
men as being born equal, and who loves his neighbor as
himself.
Greed
A miser is a man held captive by his own possessions.
One weakness of our age is the inability to distinguish our
needs from our greeds.
It is not the complexion of the skin, but the complexity
of human selfishness that makes the problems of the world
unsolvable.
Lust is only appeased for a moment — it is never satisfied.
Lust in one form or another is the common sin that plagues
all mankind.
Growth
Personal growth is a continual process. One never gradu-
ates from the school of life.
The strongest principle of growth lies in human choice.
Our greatest challenge for growth comes through interact-
ing with other people.
There are people whose bodies have grown but their minds
have not. There are others whose minds have grown but not
their hearts.
We are today what we made ourselves yesterday.
Who errs and mends to God himself commends.
It takes both rain and sunshine to make a rainbow.
The best teacher is often time.
Reaching maturity is a lifelong process. Never let the time
come when you think you have arrived.
The largest room in the world is the room for improvement.
Life is a grindstone: whether it polishes you up or grinds
you down depends on the stuff you are made of.
You have to do your own growing up, no matter how tall
your grandfather was.
Every circumstance rightly taken is an education.
Every phase of life brings a fresh set of problems and oppor-
tunities to grow in grace and knowledge, into full maturity.
Habits
The chains of habit are too weak to be felt until they are
too strong to be broken.
Be master of your habits or they will master you.
Habit cannot be tossed out the window — it must be
coaxed down the stairs step by step, one at a time.
Habits are like easy chairs: easy to get into, hard to get out of.
Kick a bad habit before it kicks you.
First we make our habits, then our habits make us.
It is easier to prevent bad habits than to break them.
Happiness
The way to be happy is to make others happy.
Joy depends not on what is going on around us but what is
going on within us.
Most people are about as happy as they make up their

minds to be.
True happiness depends upon close alliance with God.
Some bring happiness wherever they go — others, when-
ever they go.
Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without
getting a few drops on yourself.
There is no cosmetic for beauty like happiness.
Do not speak of your happiness to one less fortunate than
yourself.
True happiness is without frivolity: seriousness without
pessimism.
The great essentials of happiness are something to do,
something to love, and something to hope for.
If we learn how to give of ourselves, to forgive others,
and to live in thanks-giving, then we need not seek happi-
ness — happiness will seek us.
Heart
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be
seen nor touched, but are felt in the heart.
Some people can see at a glance what others cannot see
with searchlights and telescopes.
A right heart is better than a correct head.
History
When a nation becomes overly pleasure-seeking, history
has already begun writing its epitaph.
History is an approximate account of the past. Prophecy is
an approximation of the future.
Honesty
Don’t learn the tricks of the trade — learn the trade.
Admitting error clears the score and proves you wiser than
before.
We can’t put our sins behind us until we are ready to face

them.
Live your life so that you don’t have to hide your diary.
Honesty is the best policy.
Teach the tongue to say “I don’t know.”
To err is easy, to admit that we erred isn’t.
Don’t say “No” out of pride, nor say “Yes” out of
weakness.
We all say something foolish sometimes — but it is more
foolish not to admit it when we realize it.
An admission of error is a sign of strength rather than a
confession of weakness.
Sincere repentance is followed by a change.
Better is a plain refusal than putting off.
Hope
God’s promises shine brightest in our darkest hour.
It is always darkest just before the dawn.
The blue of heaven is larger than the clouds.
The tide turns at low tide as well as at high.
The night is not forever; the sun is.
Man’s extremity is God’s opportunity.
Human Nature
Whether young or old, strong or weak, everyone is infected
with Adam-itis.
The subtle art of saving face will never save the human
race.
It is part of human nature that, whatever wants are sup-
plied to a man who is passive, he will not seek to gain by
active endeavor.
It is part of human nature to esteem that which is distant as
more grand and wonderful than that which is near.
People only want the truth when it agrees with them.

Some people who are liked from a distance are less likable
when sitting in your living room.
More people have the palm of their hand turned up than
down.
We would rather be ruined by praise than saved by criticism.
Everyone is like the moon, with a dark side he never shows
to anybody.
The tendency is to call another “obstinate,” ourselves firm;
to call another “hypercritical,” ourselves discriminating; to
call another “wishy-washy,” ourselves open-minded.
Every one of us has all the centuries in him.
We are the inheritors of the past; history has left its mark
on all of us.
An object in your possession seldom retains the charm it
had while pursuing it.
Humility
A thankful heart never thanks himself.
The ear of barley that bears the richest grain always hangs
the lowest.
Humility is making a right estimate of oneself.
To have to eat your own words may prove to be a healthy
diet.
Humility is the basis for all other virtues.
Everyone is trying to accomplish something big, not real-
izing that life is made up of many little things.
Where boasting ends, true dignity begins.
Better to be a humble somebody than a proud nobody.
When the world thinks that a man has won, his struggles
then have just begun.
A humble, frank admission of not knowing the answer to a
question opens the admission of light.
He stands tallest who stoops to help others.
Humility is a strange thing — the minute you think you’ve

got it, you have lost it.
A humble person seeks no credit, nor seeks a compliment
for work well done.
It is not the lofty sail but the unseen wind that moves
the ship.
Dignity has no room for boasting and exaggeration.
Great men never feel great; small men never feel small.
Humility is the prerequisite for eternal exaltation.
Immaturity
A man without moral principles is a being without a back-
bone.
Love built on beauty fails as soon as beauty dies.
You can’t win by trying to even the score.
The man who trims himself to suit everybody will soon
whittle himself away.
The only exercise some people get is jumping to conclusions.
Some people are never at peace unless they are fighting.
A sharp tongue is no indication of a keen mind.
Little minds, like little ships with broad sails, are in great
danger of capsizing if too strong a wind blows upon them.
Whoever holds a suspect guilty without proof is a victim of
his instinct.
The water bubbles where it is shallowest.
Anger, resentment and touchiness are signs of a paltry
person.
Indecision
A wish is a desire without any attempt to attain its end.
There is no more miserable being than the one for whom
nothing is habitual but indecision.
Indecision is a near relative to unhappiness.
He who considers too much will perform too little.
When a person doesn’t know what harbor he is making for,

no wind is the right wind.
Sometimes if we do not make a choice, it is made for us by
default.
Industriousness
A rolling stone gathers no moss.
Work is the best narcotic.
Work is a good investment and it always pays.
The highest reward that God gives us for good work is the
ability to do it better.
The highest reward for a man’s toil is not what he gets for
it, but rather what he becomes by it.
Never be idle; if your hands cannot be employed usefully,
attend to the cultivation of your mind.
Happiness is found in worthwhile activity; it is like run-
ning water, never a stagnant pool.
The person who is able to distinguish between tiredness
and laziness in himself will go far.
Influence
Call people by their name; it is music to their ears.
One cannot be a leader by pushing.
No man is great enough to govern another man without
that other man’s consent.
There is no man so strong that he cannot be won by
gentleness.
Who supplies another with a constructive thought has en-
riched him forever.
You never get a second chance to make a first impression.
Nothing is more powerful than the spoken word, either for
good or for evil.
You cannot kindle other hearts if you don’t have a fire in
your own heart.
No serpent’s bite will cause such pain as does an evil tongue.

A snake’s bite injures only one, a word may hurt a throng.
Combativeness is a good trait if we know how to apply the
brakes.
A minute of thought is of more worth than an hour of talk.
Keep your own secrets if you have any, lest you suffer
exposure.
He who influences the thought of his time influences the
thought of all times to follow.
Integrity
You cannot drive straight on a twisted lane.
The actions of men are the best interpreters of their
thoughts.
Integrity has no need of rulers.
Our life must be consistent with what we consider to be of
value.
He is not wise who is wise in words only.
The integrity of men is measured by their conduct, not by
their profession.
Following the path of least resistance makes rivers and men
crooked.
Honor is more important than honors.
A clear conscience makes a good pillow.
Intoxication
Alcohol has drowned more people than all the seas combined.
Dignity is one thing that cannot be preserved in alcohol.
Having a drink does not drown a care but waters it to grow
faster.
Much drinking, little thinking.
Wine is a turncoat. First it’s a friend, then a deceiver and in
the end an enemy.
Alcohol kills everything living and preserves that which is
dead.
Judging
Don’t judge a man by his friends only, judge him by his
enemies.
We seldom weigh our neighbors in the same balance with
ourselves.
People can become so critical over and above the point-
ing out of problems, that they begin to judge and impute
motives.
No one should be the judge in his own case.
He that would live in peace and at ease must not speak all
he knows, nor judge all he sees.
How easy it is to judge others by their words and deeds,
and ourselves by good motives and intentions.
Keep an argument free of emotion; decide matters on what
is right, not who is right.
He hears but half, who hears one party only.
The absence of evidence does not make a thing true or false,
right or wrong.
Quarrels would not last long if the fault were on one side.
.
Justice
In today’s world, justice has been replaced by “just-us.”
Never twist the facts if you want a matter to be straight-
ened out.
Performing all that justice and righteousness require, with-
out demanding like treatment from others, is a quality of
godliness.
The injuries we do and those we suffer are seldom weighed
on the same scale.
Some people find injustice relatively easy to bear; what
stings is justice.
Kindness
If you must disagree, do so without being disagreeable.
Don’t win the argument — win the person.

Helping others is visible love.
Kindness is the language the deaf can hear, the blind can
read, and the forgotten can feel.
Few people ever get dizzy from doing too many good
turns.
The more we give of kindness, the more we will receive in
return; we’ll never run out of it.
It is better to have a heart-to-heart talk, than a head-to-
head talk.
The kind word that falls from your lips today may bear its
fruit tomorrow.
Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge.
A word spoken in kindness to a sad person is like a burst of
sunshine from behind a cloud.
Loving-kindness is love translated into action.
Learn to say kind things; nobody resents them.
Knowledge
To grow in knowledge is to retain the truths we have, and
to add to our stock.
It is better to learn late than never.
The mind is like the stomach. It is not how much you put in
it that counts, but how much it digests.
Sometimes we learn more from a man’s errors than from
his virtues.
We may be knowledgeable but not necessarily wise.
A man with knowledge who has a closed mind is like an
encyclopedia that was never updated.
A pint of common sense is worth a bushel of learning.
The more we know, the more we see how little we know.
You learn best when you dig it out yourself.
Better to be certain of a little than to misunderstand a lot.
The thirst for knowledge increases ever with its acquisition.
Repetition is the mother of memory, and remembering is

the forerunner of knowledge and wisdom.
Knowledge in limbo is useless.
To learn and never be filled is wisdom. To teach and never
be weary is love.
He who has only himself as a teacher has a fool as his pupil.
Laziness
A mind unemployed is a life unenjoyed.
The less one has to do, the less time he finds to do it.
Idleness is the holiday which fools take.
Idleness is the workshop of the devil.
Some men are like blisters — they appear after the work is
done.
The only thing you can get without working is hungry.
Oversleeping is no way to make your dreams come true.
It does a man no good to sit up and take notice if he keeps
on sitting.
Those who never worked in their lives live by the sweat of
other people’s brows.
Liberty
Those who deny freedom to others do not deserve it for
themselves.
No one has the right to do as he pleases, except he please
to do right.
Whatever evil may result from the spirit of free inquiry, the
evil of suppression would be far greater.
Liberty is a thing you cannot have unless you are willing
to give it to others.
Life
Talk is cheap until you hire a lawyer.
When you get something for nothing, you just haven’t been
billed for it yet.
Life is not a holiday but an education.
Life can only be understood by looking back, but it must be
lived looking forward.
It takes the whole of life to learn how to live.
Housework is something you do which nobody notices un-
less you don’t do it.
Life is a perpetual instruction in cause and effect.
The greatest battles of life are fought in the silent chambers
of the heart.
The safest capital with which to begin life is good health
and sound morals.
The great business of life is to be, to do, to do without, and
to depart.
Every person is worth understanding.
There is happiness and pain in life — and one makes you
able to feel the other more deeply.
Love
Love is like a muscle: if we don’t use it, it atrophies.
Love is friendship set on fire.
Love is a game that all can play and no one loses.
It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved
at all.
A wise man values not so much the gift of the lover as the
love of the giver.
Love is not big-headed — it is big-hearted.
Our preoccupation with what we can do for others can dis-
tract us from giving the best gift we have: ourselves.
Love is best explained by actions, so others can see what it
is by what we do.
Love looks through a telescope, not a microscope.
Love with strings attached is self-love.
Self-giving love is the best antidote for loneliness.

In a true Christian, love and consideration should be the
rule, not the exception.
Love your neighbor, yet pull not down your hedge.
Love grows through the showing of appreciation and dies
without it.
Love looks not with the eyes but with the heart.
More precious is love tested in the fire of deepest trouble,
than trophies won by pride.
As like begets like, so love begets love.
Communicating love takes time and thoughtfulness.
Love without work is nothing but a sentiment.
Honest affection given or received sweetens our life.
Love without expecting reward is a reward in itself, and it
creates no disappointment.
Love is the divine alchemy of life, transforming all duties
into privileges and all responsibilities into joy.
To love for the sake of being loved is human. But to love for
the sake of loving is angelic.
Mammon
Money can cure hunger but it cannot cure unhappiness.
There is nothing wrong with having money; the trouble
begins when the money has you.
Wealth — whether acquired or inherited — if selfishly
hoarded adds no degree of merit to the possessor.
Money is a good servant but a bad master.
A man is rich according to what he is, not according to
what he has.
The Golden Rule — not the rule of gold — is what leads to
happiness.
If we gather possessions they may soon possess us.
Wealth is a superfluity of what we don’t need.
The dog with the bone is always in danger.
As riches grow, cares follow.
Manners
The greater the courtesy, the greater the man.
Politeness is a small price to pay for the good will and
affection of others.
Life is short, but there is always time for courtesy.
To be humble to superiors is duty; to equals, courtesy; to
inferiors, nobility.
Poise is the art of raising one’s eyebrows instead of raising
the roof.
Ceremonies differ according to countries. True politeness is
everywhere the same.
Be friendly: friendship gives life a delicious flavor.
Politeness is a part of true Christian character, representing
the sentiments of a loving heart.
What’s true of gems is also true of men: a man of greater
polish is esteemed higher than the man with less polish.
Marriage
Success in marriage is much more than finding the right
person. It is a matter of being the right person.
The best possession is a sympathetic spouse.
A marriage without any conflict is almost as inconceivable
as a nation without any crises.
Happy marriages are not achieved by idealism.
Keep your eyes wide open before marriage and half-shut
afterward.
You can bear your own faults — why not the faults of your
spouse?
The difference between a successful marriage and a medio-
cre one consists of leaving three or four things unsaid.
A woman is perturbed by what a man forgets. A man is
perturbed by what a woman remembers.
Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads,

hundreds of tiny threads, which sew a couple together
through the years.
Maturity
To handle yourself use your head; to handle others use your
heart.
A proper balance between the idealistic and the practical is
a sure way of getting ahead in life.
Difficulties in life are stepping-stones to maturity.
Be tolerant with youth, compassionate with the aged.
Have understanding for the weaknesses of others, and
make allowance for their actions without approving the
same.
One learns to overlook troubles instead of looking into
them.
The first step toward maturity is to learn when, and when
not, to say something. The second step is what, and what
not, to say.
Slow to speak and swift to hear is one of the marks of
maturity.
Let not reason be overcome by emotion, but let emotion be
ruled by reason.
Growing in maturity is a lifetime job.
No life, no growth. No growth, no strength. No strength, no
action. No action, no experience. No experience, no maturity.
Meddling
Those who in quarrels interpose must often wipe a bloody
nose.
Mistakes
The greatest mistake is not to have learned from past
mistakes.
Learn from the mistakes of others — you can’t live long

enough to make them all yourself.
To obtain maximum attention, it’s hard to beat a good, big
mistake.
Most people who berate their luck never think to question
their judgment.
Try to fix the mistake, never the blame.
Mistakes should be reasons for growth, not excuses for
discouragement.
Moderation
The bow too tightly strung is easily broken.
Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl
necklace of all the virtues.
Any noble endeavor is killed by excess.
Obedience
Servanthood and obedience go together like Siamese
twins.
Obedience is the fruit of faith.
One deflection from the right course brings another.
It is a generally-accepted principle that no one is qualified
to rule others who has not himself learned obedience.
Open-mindedness
No man is wise at all times.
Inexperience is what lets a young man do what an older
man says is impossible.
A mature mind is an open mind with an entrance for truth
and better ideas, and an exit for errors and unprofitable
thoughts.
Show me the man who never changes his mind, and I’ll
show you a man who never added to his knowledge.
The sectarian thinks that he has the sea ladled into his
private pond.
Opportunity
Opportunities multiply as they are seized; they die when
neglected.
The door of Opportunity is marked “push.”
Whatever line of work a man may choose, there is always
an opportunity to reach the top.
A problem is an opportunity in work-clothes.
Opportunities always look bigger going than coming.
The pessimist sees a difficulty in every opportunity; the
optimist sees an opportunity in every difficulty.
Patience
There is one quality that always comes to the aid of a man
in times of adversity: Patience.
Patience is the virtue of accepting a disagreeable and pain-
ful situation without becoming bitter.
An effective method for developing patience is listening
without interrupting, and responding with gentleness.
If you press a matter too hard or too often, it may become
self-defeating.
Patience achieves more than force.
To know how to wait is the great secret of success.
God is not finished with the picture of your life yet; he is
still painting.
There is nothing to be gained by answering in haste, but
much to be gained by letting a few nights of sleep pass over it.
Life is hard by the yard but a cinch by the inch.
A slow drizzle for a length of time is more effective in
watering the soil than a cloudburst.
Patience is a bandage for all sores.
Perseverance
Little and often fills the purse.
Life is like riding a bicycle: you don’t fall unless you stop
pedaling.
Failure is but the closed door to success. Try again and you
may open it.
It is important to start right. It is more important to end well.
Don’t be discouraged — it’s often the last key in the bunch
that opens the lock.
A few good deeds is not a yardstick for a man’s character.
He who endures most patiently gives evidence of under-
standing and maturity.
All men have fits and starts to do a noble deed, but many
lack persistency that leads to success.
There are no veterans in God’s army.
Politics
Political promises are those that go in one year and out the
other.
Anything that keeps a politician humble is healthy for
democracy.
Nothing can be politically right that is morally wrong.
Power
Power is not so much what a man can accomplish as what
he can lead others to do.
We have the weakness — God has the strength; thus it be-
comes an unbeatable combination.
Prayer
When we become too glib in prayer we are most likely
talking to ourselves.
Christians who are not praying are playing.
The secret in praying is praying in secret.

A worldly Christian will stop praying; the praying Chris-
tian will stop worldliness.
Do not pray for a lighter load — pray for a stronger back.
Never put a man down except on a prayer list.
Man proposes, God disposes.
The purpose of prayer is not to change the Divine will, but
to adjust oneself to it.
As is your “Amen” so is your prayer.
God’s answers are wiser than our prayers.
Prayer is not conquering God’s reluctance, but taking hold
of God’s willingness.
There is a difference between saying your prayer and
praying your prayer.
Some people don’t get down on their knees until they
haven’t a leg to stand on.
When praying, do not give God instructions, just report for
duty.
Prayer is not an attitude attained, but an attitude maintained.
Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon his
knees.
Pray to God, but keep on rowing to the shore.
Nothing lies beyond the reach of prayer except that which
is outside the will of God.
He stands best who kneels most.
Pride
When nobody around you seems to measure up, it’s time to
measure your yardstick.
It is a very unappetizing diet when you have to eat your
own words.
If the doctors cure, the sun shows it; if they kill, the grave
hides it.
Being willing to receive sometimes takes more grace than
giving to others — reluctance to receive exposes our pride.

An unfailing mark of a blockhead is the chip on his
shoulder.
Of proud men it can be said that the taller they grow the
harder they fall.
What goes up, in time will come down.
Pride is the forerunner of humiliation.
You cannot put a chip on the shoulder that you put to the
wheel.
Temper gets us into trouble. Pride keeps us there.
Conceit is a strange disease, it makes everyone sick except
the one who has it.
Ancestry is most important to those who have done noth-
ing themselves.
Pride is selfishness gone to seed in the fertile soil of self-
centeredness.
Everyone possesses just as much conceit as he lacks com-
mon sense.
Anyone who thinks he knows all the answers just isn’t up-
to-date on the questions.
One may be humble out of pride.
Principle
Idealism is good only if based on reality.
Adhering to principles, come what may, is not and has
never been characteristic of the majority.
Principle may never be abandoned for any consideration,
but liberty and personal right may be ignored in the interest
of others and to Divine pleasure.
Compromise makes a good umbrella but a poor roof.
What I must do, and not what people think, is all that
concerns me.
To clear a difficulty out of the way, there is no ax like a
good principle.
The man who stands for a principle must value duty higher
than life.
Any society which does not insist upon respect for all life
must necessarily decay.
Priorities
One of the greatest obstacles to success is man’s inability to
put first things first.
Don’t let the little things of life cause you to miss the boat.
People who maintain their right priorities are the most
fulfilled and confident people.
Always remember: in fundamental things, unity; in less
fundamental things, liberty; and in all things, charity.
Who we are is important, what we are is vital, whose we
are is imperative.
Doing things right is not as important as doing the right
thing.
Problems
Love reduces friction to a fraction.
Every problem has a limited life.
It is one thing to be in a crisis, and another thing to be the
crisis.
The best angle from which to approach any problem is the
tryangle.
Problems are best solved when you treat the causes, not just
the symptoms.
Difficulties strengthen the mind as labor does the body.
The best way to forget your own troubles is to help others
in solving their problems.
Love is the common denominator to solve difficulties
among people.
The best way out of a difficulty is through it.
You will never be the person you can be if all pressure,
tension and need for discipline are taken out of your life.
Character is not made in a crisis, it is only exhibited.
Procrastination
Procrastinator: one who puts off until tomorrow things he
has already put off until today.
While we consider when to begin, it becomes too late to
do it.
On the street of By-and-By one arrives at the house of Never.
Hard work is often an accumulation of easy things you
didn’t do when you should have.
Procrastination is a thief of time.
Small problems grow into large ones by feeding on procras-
tination.
Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Progress
In our haste to deal with the things that are wrong let us
not upset the things that are right.
Progress is never smooth. It has to overcome ignorance,
unbelief and ridicule.
The rung of a ladder was not meant to rest upon, but only
to hold a man’s foot long enough to put the other somewhat
higher.
Progress always involves risk. You can’t steal second base
and keep your foot on first.
Providence
God never closes one door without opening another.
God provides the birds with food, but he does not drop it
into their nest.
Purpose
The great thing in this world is not so much where we
stand as in what direction we are moving.
The man without a purpose is like a ship without a rudder.
Great men have purposes, others have wishes.
Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all
the ways you can, for as long as you can.
Life is a cup to be filled, not drained.
It is better to have little to live on and something to live for,
than to have plenty to live on and nothing to live for.
Life is not the wick or the candle, it is the burning.
The heart of every man is a furnace of smoldering fire,
which when fanned by inspiration bursts into flame.
Religion
Two marks of a Christian: Giving and Forgiving.
Most people are willing to take the Sermon on the Mount
as a flag to sail under, but few will use it as a rudder by which
to steer.
The light that shows us our sin is the light that heals us.
Communion with God must ever hold a higher place than
service for God.
The hardest job for people to do is to move religion from
their throats to their lips.
The church was created for people, not people for the
church.
A living religion is a way of living.
If Christ is kept outside, something is wrong inside.
What Christians need is less theology and more Doxol-
ogy.
Reproof
When rebuking, turn the volume down; speaking softly is
like oil on troubled waters.

If a reproof is necessary, let our words have no bitter sting,
nor our face a hard look.
The sting of a reproach is the truth of it.
Reputation
Every day that a man lives, he is building a reputation good
or bad.
If you are highly talented, do not put your superiority on
display.
Real talent need not be advertised.
Recognition cannot be demanded. It commends itself if
there is a worthy cause.
Reputation is a bubble which a man bursts when he tries to
blow it up for himself.
Easier to keep a good reputation than to regain it.
Don’t talk about your accomplishments; let the track
record do the talking.
Resignation
A man must be willing to resign to the inevitable, but first
he must be sure that it is inevitable.
As soon as a person resigns himself to fate, his resignation
is promptly accepted.
Responsibility
The ability to accept responsibility is the measure of a man.
We are morally responsible for every wrong which we have
the power to prevent.
Ability is not worth much without dependability.
Responsibilities gravitate to the person who can shoulder
them.
The final test of a man’s ability is responsibility.
You owe it to the Lord, to yourself and those around you, to

be the best that you are capable of becoming.
Retribution
Nature’s law affirms instead of prohibits. If you violate her
laws, you are your own prosecuting attorney, judge, jury, and
hangman.
The law that “Every evil deed has its retribution” is beyond
appeal.
The moral laws of God, like all the laws of the Universe,
have built-in self-monitoring qualities, that will bless if not
tampered with and will exact retribution if in any way
violated.
God’s mills grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly fine.
Our acts — like our own shadows — will follow us, even if
we try to hide from them.
Break God’s law and it will break you.
Self-denial
There are no crown-wearers in heaven who were not cross-
bearers here on earth.
Self-denial and unselfishness are inseparable companions.
Consideration for others can mean taking a wing instead
of a drumstick.
There is nothing truly valuable which can be gotten with-
out pain or labor.
The power of refraining from things gives a man more
strength than the possession of them.
He deserves not the sweet who will not taste the bitter.
Self-esteem
It takes an honest estimate of oneself to have a proper self-
esteem.
The hardest secret for a man to keep is his opinion of himself.
The quickest way to acquire self-confidence is to try what

you are afraid to undertake.
Let men laugh if they will when you sacrifice desire for duty;
time is on your side and you have eternity to rejoice in it.
Service
Service never becomes slavery when performed in love.
God does not want your ability — he wants your availability.
Instead of waiting upon the LORD, some Christians want
the LORD to wait on them.
The best place to find a helping hand is at the end of your
arm.
What I would do for Christ must needs be done for others.
To serve means to be involved.
Be alert to serve. What counts most in life is what we do
for others.
Sharing
What you keep is lost; what you give is forever yours.
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by
what we give.
We may give without love, but we cannot love without
giving.
Charity gives itself rich; covetousness hoards itself poor.
Do the giving while you are living — then you are knowing
where it is going.
Be aware of someone’s economic needs and share with
them in their wants.
There is a universal law, that the happiest people are those
who are doing the most good for others.
A bell is not a bell until you ring it, a song is not a song until
you sing it, and love is not love until you give it away.
The joy of living is in the giving: it is in the sharing and
giving of self.
The principle of love overflows with tenderness and longs

to bless.
Love, like the one basket of loaves and fishes, looks insuf-
ficient until you start giving it away.
Happiness is the dividend returned for investment in the
well-being of others.
Love shared is love multiplied.
Silence
Silence is one of the hardest things to refute.
Not every question deserves an answer.
I have often regretted my spoken word, never my silence.
The best time to hold the tongue is the time when we feel
we must say it or bust.
Silence cannot be misquoted, but it can be misinterpreted.
No echoes return to mock the silent tongue.
Well-timed silence has more eloquence than speech.
One thing about silence is that it can’t be repeated.
Sin
Ill deeds are doubled with evil words.
All evils can be reduced to the common denominator, sin.
Man is the only animal that blushes — or needs to.
Evil often triumphs, but shall never conquer.
No evil is ever so finely spun that it will not show up in the
light of the sun.
All the apples of temptation have worms.
Sincerity
In most situations in life, the consciousness of innocence is
truly our best shield and our firmest security.
One cannot find any rule of conduct to excel simplicity and
sincerity.
Purity of heart is purity of motive and intention.

Say what you mean, and mean what you say.
Only by taking the risk of being open with one another can
we heal rifts, break impasses and build bridges.
Skill
Anything that is worth doing is worth doing well.
The winds and waves are always on the side of the ablest
navigator.
When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece.
Do what you can with what you have and where you are,
and it will be well with you.
Slipshod methods never produce a master.
Every man’s work is a portrait of himself.
How much you do is important; how well you do it is
decisive.
One of the biggest thrills in life comes from doing a thing
well.
Slander
Slander is worse than killing. Being killed, you die but once.
Being slandered, you may be killed several times.
An injurious truth has no more merit than an injurious lie.
Evil speaking is like a boomerang; even if the tongue
misses the target, it will return to mark and scar him who
propelled it.
You can’t whitewash yourself by blackening others.
You are none the holier for being praised and none the
worse for being blamed.
Hear no ill of a friend nor speak any of an enemy.
Slander is the assassination of another’s character.
Defamation is robbery of another’s good name.
Smile
All people smile in the same language.
Smile at people. It takes 72 muscles to frown and only 14
to smile.
What sunshine is to flowers, your smile is to others.
A smile is a light in the window of the face, showing that
the heart is at home.
A smile costs you nothing, but is worth a great deal to
those who are lifted up by it.
You will never offend a person by returning a smile.
Most smiles are started by another’s smile.
Sorrow
Sorrows which have no vent in tears may make other or-
gans unhappy.
While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates.
Gifts and flowers are a poor substitute to a sorrowing and
suffering person. The gift of your presence, when appropri-
ate, is the best gift that one can give.
Sow/Reap
There was never a person who did anything worth doing,
who did not receive more than he gave.
We become most what we focus upon most.
The person who throws himself away seldom likes the
place he lands.
The most disappointed people are those who get what’s
coming to them.
The seed of wrongdoing may be concealed but the harvest
cannot be.
He who digs a pit for others digs one for himself.
The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.
Stewardship
Be firm in the things eternal and flexible in the things
temporal.
Those who have most to do, and are willing to work, will
find time to do more.
Sum up at night what you have done by day.
We are not masters of our time, we are only stewards of it.
Time is but once. Waste it and it is gone forever. Invest it
and it has not passed in vain.
Counting time is not as important as making time count.
He that goes to borrowing goes to sorrowing.
Time and words cannot be recalled.
It is not only what we do, but also what we neglect to do,
for which we are accountable.
Stubbornness
Be constant in what is good, beware of being obstinate in
anything.
Constancy is a virtue; obstinacy is an evil.
A dogma, hardened by endless repetition, is difficult to
dissolve.
Nothing is harder to open than a closed mind.
Success
Success consists of getting up just one more time than you
have fallen down.
The door to success swings on the hinges of opposition.
Helping others is the secret of all success — in business, in
the arts, and in the home.
Success or failure is caused more by mental attitudes than
mental capacities.
Itching for what you want doesn’t do much good — you
have to scratch for it.
The road to success is always under construction.

Success comes to the person who does little things well.
If opportunity knocks, use it — if you don’t, you lose it.
Diligence is Fortune’s right hand, and frugality her left.
No rule for success will work if you don’t work.
Suffering
The stars are most bright when darkest the night, and God
is the nearest when life is the dreariest.
The bird with a broken pinion never again soars so high,
but its song is sweeter.
Tact
A diplomat is a man who remembers a woman’s birthday
but never remembers her age.
Tact is the unseen part of what you really think.
Be civil to all, sociable to many, familiar to few, a friend to
one, and an enemy to none.
Tact is the ability to close your mouth before someone else
wants to do it.
Tact is the knack of making a point without making an
enemy.
An ounce of thoughtfulness can ease a ton of heartache.
The ill-timed truth we might have kept, who knows how
sharp it pierced and stung? The word we had not sense to say,
who knows how grandly it would have rung?
Never correct another in public or in the presence of a
bystander.
Give a reproof lovingly, refute an error gently. It is more
effective on the receiver and more gratifying to the giver.
Some people have chronic hoof-in-mouth disease.
How to avoid an argument? State your point, scratch your
head, and then add, “I may be wrong.”
Temptation
When you flee temptation, don’t leave a forwarding address.
When a man has a pet peeve, it’s remarkable how often he
pets it.
No man is safe from falling into temptation until he has
learned not to dally with temptation.
If you don’t want the fruits of sin, stay out of the Devil’s
orchard.
Tolerance
He is not well-bred who can’t bear ill-breeding in others.
It’s the glory of a man to bypass an offense.
The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook.
If you think the world is all wrong, remember that it con-
tains people like you.
Hunt for the good points in the other person; remember, he
has to do the same for you.
To learn to understand each other is the greatest art in life.
Tolerance comes with age because of the faults we had and
still have but did not fully overcome.
Tongue
To speak kindly does not hurt the tongue.
An ounce of keeping the tongue in check beats a ton of
explanations.
The tongue is the only instrument that gets sharper with
every use.
The secret of a governable tongue is not as much self-con-
trol as it is Christ-control.
Don’t talk about yourself — it will be done when you
leave.
One reason why a dog is such a lovable creature is that his
tail wags instead of his tongue.
A loose tongue often gets into a tight spot.

Never leave your tongue in gear while your brain is idling.
Nothing is opened by mistake more often than the mouth.
Better to let them wonder why you didn’t talk than why
you did.
Wise men keep their tongue to keep their head.
No member of the body needs as many muscles as the
tongue.
The tongue is the indicator of the heart’s condition.
It is better to talk less and do more observing and listening.
God has given us two eyes and two ears for input, but only
one mouth for output.
Trials
Troubles are often the tools by which God fashions us for
better things.
God gives us trials equal to our faith, not faith equal to our
trials.
A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor can a man
be perfected without trials.
It is by God’s permitted trials that he works into our
character his divine design.
A storm-weathered tree is stronger and deeper-rooted than
a sheltered one.
The fruit makes the pruning worthwhile.
Afflictions are the rough touches and hard rubs to polish us
for use and for shining.
The Lord sometimes takes us into troubled waters, not to
drown us but to cleanse us.
God’s children are like tea bags: they have to go through
hot water before the aroma becomes more pleasant.
It takes darkness to see the twinkling stars, and it is in the
darkest hours when we appreciate God’s bright promises
most.
That which was bitter to endure may be sweet to remember.

The more the marble wastes, the more the statue grows.
If you want the rainbow, you must put up with the rain.
Trouble
You can’t keep trouble from coming, but you need not give
it a chair to sit on.
In order to get out of step you don’t need to do anything.
A warm heart, a cool head, and clean hands: an excellent
formula for keeping us out of trouble.
Adversity affects people differently: some become bitter,
others become better.
Trust
God always gives the best to those who leave the choice
with him.
Complete trust in God asks no questions nor complains.
God does not promise smooth sailing, but he does promise
safe arrival.
I know not always the way he leads me, but well do I know
my guide — what have I to fear?
Peace to a Christian is not the absence of trouble, but the
presence of God.
Do the very best you can and leave the outcome to God.
Truth
God’s laws are truths that stand the test of time.
Most people want the truth only if it agrees with them.
Heart and lips should never be at odds.
The naked truth is often so boring that most people cannot
help dressing it up a bit.
The greatest friend of Truth is time, and her constant com-
panion is humility.
Finders keepers, except when we find the truth. Truth is to

be shared.
Truth has nothing to lose by fairness, openness and reason-
able moderation — and the turning on of all available light.
There is no power on earth more formidable than the truth.
A lie travels around the world while the truth is still getting
her boots on.
Truth on every subject, however or by whomever uttered,
is the voice of God.
The appetite for truth gets sharper with every morsel eaten
and digested.
The greatest homage we can pay to truth is to use it.
Truth is the foundation of all knowledge and the cement of
all societies.
Never ask who is right, ask what is right.
Delay of answer is preferable to error.
Unselfishness
It is impossible to give of ourselves at arm’s length or in
absentia.
The Dead Sea is a dead sea because it continually receives
and never gives.
God looks not on the quality of the gift but on the quality
of the giver.
See what you can do for others, not what they can do for
you.
Unselfishness never comes easy.
To be known is good, to belong is better.
The art of unselfish living is practiced by few and mastered
by even fewer.
Some people give and forgive; others get and forget.
The manner in which it is given is worth more than the gift.
He who is not liberal with what he has, deceives himself
when he thinks he would be liberal if he had more.
Frugality is good if liberality be joined to it.
Values
You may call that your own which no man can take from
you — your spiritual values.
An ounce of wisdom is worth a ton of wit.
The future belongs to those who love, not to those who hate.
Full often, what you now despise proves better than the
things you prize.
Some are taken up with the immediate so much that they
lose sight of the ultimate.
No pleasure is comparable to standing upon the high
ground of truth.
Woe, if a man is not more than what the tailor and hair
dresser have made him to be.
Victory
The only conquests that are permanent and leave no regrets
are conquests over ourselves.
If there were no difficulties, there would be no victories.
There is a kind of victory in good work done, no matter
how humble.
Forget mistakes. Organize victory out of mistakes.
Every difficulty removed is a step gained.
Fear confronted is the first step to fear dissolved.
Virtue
Virtue debases itself by justifying itself.
He is ill-clothed that is bare of virtues.
Virtue, like a precious perfume, is most fragrant when sub-
mitted to being crushed by trials and testings.
It is more noble to use things and love people than to love
things and use people.
A truly virtuous person does not advertise his virtue — it

will surface on its own.
Only virtue tested in the fire of adversity is true virtue.
Virtue is like a precious stone, best when plainly set.
Not to know evil is innocence; to know evil and to choose
good is virtue.
True nobility comes from the gentle heart.
Some people’s virtues are somewhat tainted with vice.
Wisdom
The greatest truths are the simplest ones and so are the
greatest men.
Much wisdom often goes with fewest words.
When a person grows to maturity he becomes wiser — he
talks less but says more.
To know how to use knowledge properly is wisdom.
The doors of Wisdom are never shut to those who seek
Wisdom.
Wisdom is of great value. We pay for it dearly by experience.
Wisdom is a collection of values gained by experiences and
observations, weighing them one against the other.
Every person gets silly ideas, but a clever person suppresses
them.
Be wise in this world but be not worldly-wise.
Wise men are not always silent, but know when to be.
Some people could use some common horse-sense, to
know when to “nay.”
The doorstep to the temple of Wisdom is a knowledge of
our own ignorance.
The Bible is the Fountain of Godly wisdom.
Wisdom is a tree that grows in the heart and whose fruits
appear on the tongue.
Knowledge comes from taking things apart, wisdom from
putting them back together.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot

change, the courage to change the things I can — and the
wisdom to know the difference.
A wise man hopes for the best, is prepared for the worst,
and bears with equanimity whatever may happen.
When alone guard your thoughts, when in the family guard
your temper, when in company guard your words.
Wise people speak from experience — and at other times
from experience speak not.
The best way to become wise is at your own expense.
Witnessing
The three thicknesses a missionary must have: thickness of
skin, of stomach, and of soles.
Be not only a reflector of Christ, but a radiator.
It is better to be accused of telling the truth than to be ac-
cused of hiding it.
If God’s Word is in your mind, it will also be on your tongue.
We may use the truth as a club to show our strength, but it
will not bring men to God.
To be the salt of the earth, we must sprinkle it out of our
shakers, by giving a witness.
Applying some shoe leather to the gospel will improve our
spiritual life.
Some Christians are Dead Sea Christians: all intake and
no outlet.
If Jesus’ name is worth possessing, then surely it is worth
proclaiming.
Do not preach to others how to behave if you have not
preached it to yourself first.
When presenting the truth do it gently; one does not hang
pictures with a sledgehammer.
It is easier to find a score of men wise enough to compre-
hend the truth, than one intrepid enough to stand up for it in
the face of opposition. There are not many that stand up to
be counted.
There is nothing so refreshing as a clean, clear, uncompro-

mising stand for the truth.
To be a fool for Christ’s sake does not give us license to act
like a fool.
Be careful how you live — you may be the only Bible some
people will ever read.
The best proof of being a child of God is your living birth
certificate that can be read by everyone.
When the Lord uses you as an angel to do good to others,
praise him with thanksgiving. Be sure to do it low-key so
that only you and the Lord know about it.
One good deed is more convincing than ten arguments.
Speak no untruth — speak the truth — speak the truth in
love.
God has always had some people in every age who would
not yield to the logic of the executioner’s ax or to the argu-
ments of a blazing fire.
Words
What most orators want to give in depth, they give in
length.
Talking is not always communicating.
A word to the speaker: the mind can’t retain what the seat
can’t endure.
Language is the apparel in which your thoughts parade be-
fore the public. Never clothe them in shoddy or vulgar attire.
The more you say, the less people remember.
To many speakers, the clock runs out before he does.
A recipe for a good speech: put in more shortening.
The advantage of writing over speaking is that writing can
be unhurriedly measured and weighed.
One may talk too much on the best of subjects.
Listen more, talk less; no one ever learned anything by
talking.
It is not so much what we say as the number of times we

say it.
When talking, be not a book come alive.
Don’t shoot too high — aim low and the common people
will understand.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
Worry
Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.
Worry is like sitting in a rocking chair: it will keep you oc-
cupied, but it won’t get you anywhere.
Ulcers are caused not so much by what you eat as by what’s
eating you.
We crucify ourselves between two thieves: Regret for yes-
terday and Fear for tomorrow.
You can’t change the past, but you can ruin the present by
worrying about the future.
Some people have their troubles three times: first in antici-
pation, second in the reality, and thirdly living them over in
morbid retrospection.
He who worries about what people think of him would not
worry so much if he only knew how seldom they do.
Brood over your troubles and you may get a perfect hatch.
9
I Love
those
who Love
Me
P ROV E R B S 8 :17
The Art Collector
T HERE was a man and his son who were very wealthy and
loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in
their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit
together and admire these marvelous creations of gifted
human beings.
In time there arose a great conflict among nations and the
son had to go to war. He was very courageous and died in
battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified
and grieved deeply for his beloved only son.
Several months later a young man came to visit the father,
having a large package in his hands. He said, “Sir, you don’t
know me, but I am the soldier your son gave his life to save.
He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety
when a bullet struck him in the heart. He died instantly.
“He often talked about you, and your love for art.” The
young man held out his package. “I know this isn’t much.
I’m not really a great artist, but I think your son would have
wanted you to have this.”
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son,
painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the
soldier had captured the personality of his son. The father was
overcome with emotion and his eyes welled up with tears.
When he was finally able to speak he thanked the young
man and offered to pay handsomely for the picture. “Oh, no
sir, I could not accept. I can never repay what your son did for
me. It’s a gift.”
The father immediately hung the portrait over his mantle
in the most prominent place. Every time visitors came he
insisted they see his son’s portrait before he showed them
any of the great works he and his son had collected.
Sometime later the father died. To settle his estate a great
auction was scheduled to dispose of the celebrated collection.
On the given day many prominent people gathered, excited
to see the rare masterpieces and to have an opportunity to
purchase one for their own.
As they assembled in the auction hall they saw on the
platform the soldier’s painting of the son. After all were
9 : I love those who love me 189
seated, the auctioneer entered. A hush fell over the people. He

pounded his gavel.
“We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who
will bid for this picture?”
There was silence. Then a voice in the back of the hall
shouted, “We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this
one.”
But the auctioneer persisted.
“Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the
bidding? $1,000? $2,000?”
Another voice shouted indignantly, “We didn’t come to see
this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts.
Get on with the real works of art!”
But still the auctioneer continued.
“The son! The son! Who will take the son?”
Finally a voice came from the very back of the hall. It was
the longtime gardener of the man and his son. “All I can afford
is $100, but I will give it all for the painting.” Being a poor man,
it was all he could give.
“We have $100, who will bid $200?”
Another voice cried impatiently, “Give it to him for the $100.
Let us see the masters.”
“$100 is the bid, will anyone bid $200?”
The crowd was indignant. They didn’t want the picture
of the son by some unknown artist. They wanted the more
worthy works as investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel.
“Going once, twice, sold for $100!”
A man sitting in the second row shouted, “Now let’s get on
with the collection!”
The auctioneer laid down his gavel.
“I’m sorry, the auction is over.”
A dismayed voice shouted, “What about the paintings?”
“I’m sorry. The auction is over. When I was called to conduct
this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I
was not to reveal that stipulation until this moment. Only
the painting of the son was to be auctioned. Whoever bought
that painting will inherit the entire estate, including all the fine
works of art.”
Whispers
The man whispered, “God, speak to me,”
and a meadowlark sang.
But the man did not hear.
So the man yelled, “God, speak to me,”
and the thunder rolled across the sky.
But the man did not listen.
The man looked around and said,
“God, let me see you,”
and a star shined brightly.
But the man did not see.
Now the man shouted,
“God, show me a miracle,”
and a life was born.
But the man did not notice.
So the man cried out in despair,
“Touch me, God, and let me know you are there.”
Whereupon God reached down and touched the man.
But the man brushed the butterfly away and walked on.
Don’t miss out on a blessing because it isn’t packaged
the way that you expect.
Effective Preaching
O NE day, St. Francis of Assisi said to a young disciple, “Let

us go out and preach today.” Together they left the quiet
monastery and went to a nearby town. St. Francis visited the
various shops, made some purchases, spoke with an acquain-
tance here and there, and did several other errands. At last
they returned to the monastery. The young disciple, thinking
his master had forgotten the original purpose of their excur-
sion, asked, “Sir, when do we do the preaching?” St. Francis
smiled as he said, “My son, we have been preaching all morn-
ing. We have done the best kind of preaching by our very ac-
tions and conduct among our fellow men.”
Are those with whom we come in contact going to listen
to what we say and wonder at our discourteous conduct, our
careless work? Or are they going to remember our Christ-like
deeds and words? “Be thou an example of the believers.”
The Trees’ Garments of “Glory and Beauty”
I SRAEL ’S
ancient High Priest, Aaron, during the early part of
the great Day of Atonement, wore his white garments, the
linen garments of sacrifice, as he “offered himself” in the vari-
ous animals that were slain “for the people.” However, at the
close of this day, after having thus faithfully served his God
and the people, he changed to other garments, those of scarlet,
blue, purple and gold — the “garments of glory and beauty.” In
these garments he then came forth and with uplifted hands
pronounced the benediction upon the people.
So the trees minister to us much as Aaron did. During the
Spring and Summer they serve their God and the people in
their garments of service — the green leaves. Their service
is in the beauty with which they delight our eyes as they
bedeck the hillsides; in the shade which they afford from
the heat of the sun; in the fragrance of their blossoms and
their fruitage in due time; in the moisture suspended in the
atmosphere about them; and in the purified oxygen which
they exhale for us. Then comes the Autumn when, having
completed this service on our behalf, they change to their
other garments — the scarlet, blue, purple, and golden-hued
leaves — their “garments of glory and beauty.” With uplifted
hands they stand there, pronouncing the benediction of God
upon all people.
A .C. Frey
A Box of Kisses
A man once punished his five-year-old daughter for wast-

ing a roll of expensive gold wrapping paper. Money was
tight and he was upset because the child had used the gold
paper to decorate a box to be put under the Christmas tree.
Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift box to her father
the next morning and said, “This is for you, Daddy.” The
father was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his
anger flared again when he found the box was empty. He
spoke to her in a harsh manner, “Don’t you know, young
lady, when you give someone a present there’s supposed to
be something inside the package?”
The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and
said, “Oh, Daddy, it’s not empty. I blew kisses into it until it
was full.”
The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his
arms around his little girl, and he begged her to forgive him for
his unnecessary anger.
An accident took the life of the child soon afterward. The
father kept that gold box by his bed for the rest of his life.
Whenever he was discouraged or faced difficult problems,
he would open the box and take out an imaginary kiss and
remember the love of the child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each of us have been given a golden
box filled with unconditional love and kisses from our
children, family, friends and God. There is no more precious
possession.
The Song of an Old Man
I had been sitting alone in the little chapel for some time,
busy at the organ in preparation for a meeting, and was
about to leave the room, when an old man who had been in
the adjoining reading-room came slowly toward me. Lifting
his face toward mine, he said, “I like music. Won’t you go
back and play a little more for me?” He was eighty-four years
old, as he told me afterward. His body was bent under the
burden of years, and as I seated myself again at the organ he
came and stood beside me, fully ripe, it seemed, for heaven.
He was alive to only one great thought … Jesus, the Savior and
Master! He had been turning the leaves of the Gospel Hymns
while my fingers ran over the keyboard, and presently he laid
the book before me saying, “Play that slowly, and I’ll try to
sing it for you.” Softly and very slowly I followed him, as with
a broken voice, often scarcely audible, he tried to sing.
“Take the name of Jesus with you,
Child of sorrow and of woe;
It will joy and comfort give you;
Take it then, where’er you go.”
It was little more than a whisper song; but as he took up the
words of the chorus a glad smile spread over his face, and his
voice seemed to gather strength from his heart as he looked
rather than sang:
“Precious Name! Oh, how sweet:
Hope of earth and joy of heaven.”
It was true worship: the simple, glad expression of a loving,
loyal heart. Verily, I sat alone with a saint that day, for as the
other verses of the hymn were sung their wondrous meaning
was interpreted by the face of the singer, and the veil seemed
to fall away, revealing to me things unseen.
I had never seen the old man before; it is not likely I shall
ever see him again in the flesh; but his life touched mine
with blessing that day, for he had unconsciously brought the
Master very near. God’s work in the world calls loudly for
consecrated talent, vigorous minds, songful voices, physical
strength, business tact, enterprise, money and time. We realize
this, and perhaps, finding that we have few, if any, of these
things, think that we have nothing that would be “acceptable
in God’s sight.” He wants the best we have, it is true; but even
if the best is very, very poor, it is acceptable to the Father, who
cares more for the love which prompts our service than for
the service itself. There was no music in the old man’s voice;
indeed, it could truthfully be said that he almost had no voice;
but he drew a soul a little nearer to the Savior with what he
had. God owned and blessed his weakness. “If there be first a
willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and
not according to that he hath not.”
The Bee that Would Not be Saved
T HE other evening I was a little late in going down to

dinner, and this was the reason: I noticed a number of
dead bees lying on the floor of the lookout where I am accus-
tomed to work — a sight that I encounter every spring. The
poor things had come in through the open window. When
the windows were closed they found themselves prisoners.
Unable to see the transparent obstacle, they had hurled them-
selves against the glass panes on all sides, east, north, south
and west, until they fell to the floor exhausted, and died. But
yesterday, I noticed among the bees a great drone, much
stronger than the bees, who was far from being dead — who,
in fact, was very much alive and was dashing himself against
the panes with all his might, like the great beast that he was.
“Ah! my fine friend,” said I, “it would have been an evil day for
you had I not come to the rescue. You have been done for, my
fine fellow; before nightfall you would be lying dead, and on
coming upstairs in the evening with my lamp, I would have
found your poor little corpse among those of the other bees.
Come, now, like the Emperor Titus I shall mark the day by a
good deed: let us save the insect’s life. Perhaps in the eyes of
God a drone is as valuable as a man, and without any doubt
it is more valuable than a prince.”
I threw open the window, and, by means of a napkin,
began chasing the insect toward it; but the drone persisted
in flying in the opposite direction. I tried to capture it, it lost
its head completely; it bounded furiously against the glass
panes, as though it would smash them, took a fresh start, and
dashed itself again and again against the glass. Finally it flew
the whole length of the apartment, maddened and desperate.
“Ah, you tyrant!” it buzzed. “Despot! You would deprive me
of my liberty! Cruel executioner, why do you not leave me
alone? I am happy, and why do you persecute me?”
After trying very hard, I brought it down and, in seizing it
with the napkin, I involuntarily hurt it. Oh, how it tried to
avenge itself! It darted out its sting; its little nervous body,
contracted by my fingers, strained itself with all its strength
in an attempt to sting me. But I ignored its protestations, and,
stretching my hand out the window, opened the napkin. For
a moment the drone seemed stunned, astonished; then it

calmly took flight out into the infinite.
Well, you see how I saved the drone. I was its providence.
But (and here is the moral of my story) do we not, stupid
drones that we are, conduct ourselves in the same manner
toward the providence of God? We have our petty and absurd
projects, our small and narrow views. Our rash designs, whose
accomplishment is either impossible or injurious to ourselves.
Seeing no farther than our noses and with eyes fixed on our
immediate aim, we plunge ahead in our blind infatuation, like
madmen. We would succeed, we would triumph; that is to
say, we would break our heads against an invisible obstacle.
And when God, who sees all and who wishes to save
us, upsets our designs, we stupidly complain against his
providence. We do not comprehend that in punishing us, in
overturning our plans and causing us suffering, he is doing
all this to deliver us, to open the Infinite to us.
Victor Hugo
The Kiss of God
T HE other day, in the midst of the hurrying traffic of a great

thoroughfare, an old poverty-stricken woman was lead-
ing a blind youth by the hand. He had a battered concertina
hung around his neck. His face was marred, even ugly; he
had the look of one but half-witted. But he was clearly her
son. There was the same face, the same form, though he was
slightly taller. They came along, she impassive and heedless of
everything but her charge. Suddenly they stopped, and moved
by some impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.
Few noticed it, but there was contentment in the face of the
blind fellow, and a firmer grip of the hand that upheld and
guided him. Some of us in our blindness and loneliness have
felt the kiss of God and the pressure of his hand. We are con-
tent that the crowd, eager for novelty, should sweep by, as-
sured that all that they can find is worthless when compared
to the love that passes knowledge.
The Sighs of Love
“S HE keeps repeating it over and over again. We’ve been back

to this shelter at least five times. It has been weeks now
since we started all of this,” the woman told the volunteer.
“What is it she keeps asking for?” the volunteer asked.
“Puppy size!”
“We have plenty of puppies, if that’s what she’s looking
for.”
“I know. We have seen most of them,” the mother said in
frustration.
Just then the young child came walking into the office.
“Well, did you find one?” asked her mother.
“No, not this time,” she said with sadness in her voice. “Can
we come back on the weekend?”
The two women looked at each other, shook their heads
and laughed.
“You never know when we will get more dogs. Unfortu-
nately, there’s always a supply,” the volunteer said.
The young child took her mother by the hand and headed
to the door.
“Don’t worry, I bet we’ll find one this weekend,” the child
said.
Over the next few days both Mom and Dad had long
conversations with her. They both felt she was being too
particular.
“It’s this weekend or we’re not looking any more,” Dad
finally said in frustration.
“We don’t want to hear anything more about ‘puppy size’
either,” Mom added.
Sure enough, they were the first ones in the shelter on
Saturday morning. By now the young child knew her way
around, so she ran right for the section that housed the smaller
dogs.
Tired of the routine, Mom sat in the small waiting room at
the end of the first row of cages. There was an observation
window so you could watch the animals from there.
The young girl walked slowly from cage to cage, kneeling
periodically to take a closer look. One by one the dogs were
brought out and she held each one. One by one she said,
“Sorry, you’re not the one.”
It was the last cage on this last day in search of the perfect
pup.
The volunteer opened the cage door and the child carefully
picked up the dog and held it close. This time she took a little
longer.
“Mom, that’s it! I found the right puppy! He’s the one! I
know it!” she screamed with joy. Mom, startled by all the
commotion, came running.
“What? Are you sure? How do you know?” she asked.
“It’s the puppy sighs!”
“Yes, it is the same size as all the other puppies you held the
last few weeks,” Mom said.
“No, not ’size’ — ‘sighs.’ When I held him in my arms he
sighed,” she said.
“So?”
“Don’t you remember? When I asked you one day what love
is, you told me “Love depends on the sighs of your heart. The
more you love, the bigger the sighs!”
The two women looked at each other for a moment. Mom
didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. As she stooped down to
hug her child she did a little of both.
“Mom, every time you hold me I sigh. When you and Daddy
come home from work and hug each other, you both sigh. I
knew I would find the right puppy if it sighed when I held it
in my arms,” she said.
Then, holding the puppy up close to her face she said, “Mom,
he loves me. I heard the sighs of his heart.”
Close your eyes for a moment and think about the love that
makes you sigh.
The Smell of Rain
A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in

Dallas as the doctor walked into the small hospital
room of Diana Blessing. Still groggy from surgery, with her
husband David holding her hand, they braced themselves
for the latest news. Complications had forced Diana, only 24
weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency cesarean to deliver
the couple’s new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing. At 12 inches
long and weighing only one pound and nine ounces, they al-
ready knew she was perilously premature. Still, the doctor’s
soft words dropped like bombs. “I don’t think she’s going to
make it,” he said, as kindly as he could. “There’s only a 10
percent chance she will live through the night, and even then,
if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could be
a very cruel one.” Numb with disbelief, Diana and David lis-
tened as the doctor described the devastating problems Dana
would likely face if she survived. She would never walk, she
would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would
certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cere-
bral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on. “No!
No!” was all Diana could say.
She and David, with their five-year-old son Dustin, had long
dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a
family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was
slipping away through the dark hours of morning, as Dana
held onto life by the thinnest thread. Diana slipped in and
out of sleep, growing more and more determined that their
tiny daughter would live to be a healthy, happy young girl.
But David, fully awake and listening to additional dire details
of their daughter’s chances of ever leaving the hospital alive,
much less healthy, knew he must confront his wife with the
inevitable.
David told Diana that they needed to talk about making
funeral arrangements. Diana remembers that David was trying
to tell her what was going on, but she just did not want to listen.
“I couldn’t listen,” she said. “I remember saying, ‘No, that is not
going to happen, no way! I don’t care what the doctors say.
Dana is not going to die! One day she will be coming home
with us, and she will be just fine!’”
As if willed to live by Diana’s determination, Dana clung to

life hour after hour, with the help of every medical machine
and marvel her miniature body could endure. But as those first
days passed, a new agony set in for Diana and David. Because
Dana’s underdeveloped nervous system was essentially “raw,”
the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so
they couldn’t even cradle their tiny baby girl against their
chests to offer the strength of their love. All they could do, as
Dana struggled alone beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle
of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close
to their precious little girl. So, as the weeks went by, she did
slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength
there.
At last, when Dana turned two months old, her parents
were able to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And
two months later, Dana went home from the hospital, just
as her mother had predicted. Today, five years later, Dana is
a petite but feisty young girl with glittering gray eyes and an
unquenchable zest for life. She shows no signs whatsoever of
any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she is everything
a little girl can be and more, but that happy ending is far from
the end of her story.
One blistering summer afternoon, five-year-old Dana was
sitting on her mother’s lap in the bleachers of a local ballpark
where her brother Dustin’s baseball team was practicing. As
always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and
several other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell
silent. Hugging her arms across her chest, Dana asked, “Do
you smell that?” Smelling the air and detecting the approach
of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, “Yes, it smells like rain.”
Dana closed her eyes and again asked, “Do you smell that?”
Once again, her mother replied, “Yes, I think we’re about to
get wet, it smells like rain.” Still caught in the moment, Dana
shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small
hands and loudly announced, “No, it smells like him. It smells
like God when you lay your head on his chest.” Tears blurred
Diana’s eyes as Dana then happily hopped down to play
with the other children. Before the rains came, her daughter’s
words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the
extended Blessing family had known all along. During those

long days and nights of her first two months of life, when her
nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was
holding Dana on his chest. It was his loving scent that she
remembered so well.
Will We Entertain the Lord Today?

It happened one day at December’s end
Some neighbors called on an old-time friend.
And they found his shop, so meager and mean,
Made gay with a thousand boughs of green.
And old Conrad was sitting with face a-shine,

When he suddenly stopped as he worked with twine.
And he said, “My friends, at dawn today,
When the cock was crowing the night away,
The Lord appeared in a dream to me,

And he said, ‘I’m coming your guest to be.’
So I’ve been busy with feet astir,
Strewing my shop with branches of fir.
The table is spread and the kettle is shined,

And over the rafters the holly is twined.
And now I’ll wait for my Lord to appear;
And listen closely so I will hear
His steps as he nears my humble place.

And I’ll open the door and I’ll look on his face.”
Then his friends went home and left Conrad alone,
For this was the happiest day he had known.
For long since his family had passed away,

And Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas Day.
But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest,
This Christmas would be the dearest and best.
So he listened with only joy in his heart,

And with every sound he would rise with a start,
And looked for the Lord to be at his door,
Like the vision that he had had a few hours before.
So he ran to the window after hearing a sound,

But all he could see on the snow-covered ground
Was a shabby beggar whose shoes were torn,
And all his clothes were ragged and worn.
But old Conrad was touched and he went to the door

And he said, “Your feet must be cold and sore.
I have some shoes in my shop for you.
And I have a coat to keep you warmer, too.”
So with grateful heart the man went away.

But Conrad noticed the time of day
And he wondered what made the dear Lord so late,
And how much longer he’d have to wait.
Then he heard another knock, and he ran to the door,

But it was only a stranger once more.
A bent old lady with a shawl of black,
And a bundle of kindling wood piled on her back.
But she asked only for a place to rest,

A place that was reserved for Conrad’s great guest.
But her voice seemed to plead, “Don’t send me away,
Let me rest for a while this Christmas Day.”
So Conrad brewed her a steaming cup

And told her to sit at the table and sup.
After she had left, he was filled with dismay
For he saw that the hours were slipping away.
The Lord had not come as he said he would

And Conrad felt sure he had misunderstood.
When out of the stillness he heard a cry.
“Please help me and tell me — Where am I?”
So again he opened his friendly door

And stood disappointed as twice before.
It was a child who had wandered away,
And was lost from her family on Christmas Day.
Again Conrad’s heart was heavy and sad,

But he knew he could make this little girl glad.
So he called her in and he wiped her tears,
And he quieted all her childish fears.
Then he led her back to her home once more.

Then, as he entered his own darkened door,
He knew that the Lord was not coming today,
For the hours of Christmas had all passed away.
So he went to his room, and he knelt down to pray.

He said, “Lord, why did you delay?
What kept you from coming to call on me?
I wanted so much your face to see.”
Then softly, in the silence, a voice he heard.

“Lift up your head — I have kept my word.
Three times my shadow crossed your floor.
Three times I came to your lowly door.
I was the beggar with bruised cold feet;

I was the woman you gave something to eat;
I was the child on the homeless street.
Three times I knocked, three times I came in,
And each time I found the warmth of a friend.
Of all the gifts, love is the best.

I was honored to be your Christmas guest.”
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some

have entertained angels unawares.—Hebrews 13:2
The Stinging Scorpion
T HERE was a man who saw a scorpion floundering around

in the water. He decided to save it by stretching out his
finger, but the scorpion stung him. The man still tried to get
the scorpion out of the water, but the scorpion stung him
again.
Someone nearby told him to stop saving the scorpion that
kept stinging him. But the man said, “It is the nature of the
scorpion to sting. It is my nature to love. Why should I give up
my nature to love just because it is the nature of the scorpion
to sting?”
Don’t give up loving.
Don’t give up your goodness,
Even if people around you sting.
Let’s not give up on Love. If you have love in your heart,
you always have something to give. Love is the one treasure
that multiplies by division. It is the one gift that grows big-
ger the more you take from it. It is the one business in which
it pays to be an absolute spendthrift. You can give it away,
throw it away, empty your pockets, shake the basket, turn the
glass upside down, and tomorrow you will have more than
ever.
An “A” for Behavior
W HEN Edward Everett Hale brought his first report home

from Boston Latin School, it showed that he stood
only ninth in a class of fifteen. He was terribly downhearted,
but home was his refuge and he had a good mother. She said,
“Never mind, Edward, I notice in your report that you are first
for good behavior, and that means more to me than to have
you head of the class and not behave well.” What a sensible
mother!
It is a striking thing that no one ever refers to Jesus as clever
or brilliant. It is because all know that the supreme virtue is
goodness.
The Rented Room
O UR house was directly across the street from the clinic

entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We
lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to outpatients
at the clinic.
One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a
knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful-looking man.
“Why, he’s hardly taller than my eight-year-old,” I thought as I
stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing
was his face, lopsided from swelling, red and raw.
Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, “Good evening. I’ve
come to see if you’ve a room for just one night. I came for a
treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there’s no
bus till morning.”
He told me he’d been hunting for a room since noon but
with no success; no one seemed to have a room. “I guess it’s
my face … I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a
few more treatments … ”
For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me:
“I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves
early in the morning.”
I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch.
I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were
ready, I asked the old man if he would join us.
“No thank you. I have plenty.” And he held up a brown paper
bag.
When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to
talk with him a few minutes. It didn’t take a long time to see
that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that
tiny body.
He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her
five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled
from a back injury.
He didn’t tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other
sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing. He
was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was
apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving
him the strength to keep going.
At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children’s room for
him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly
folded and the little man was out on the porch.
He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus,
haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, “Could I please
come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won’t
put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair.”
He paused a moment and then added, “Your children made
me feel at home. Grown-ups are bothered by my face, but
children don’t seem to mind.” I told him he was welcome to
come again.
On his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning.
As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters
I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning
before he left so that they’d be nice and fresh. I knew his bus
left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in
order to do this for us.
In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never
a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from
his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always
by special delivery: fish and oysters packed in a box with fresh
young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that
he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little
money he had, made the gifts doubly precious.
When I received these little remembrances, I often thought
of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that
first morning. “Did you keep that awful-looking man last
night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting
up such people!”
Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! if only
they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would
have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be
grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it
was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with
gratitude to God.
Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse. As
she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful
one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms.
But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented,
rusty bucket.
I thought to myself, “If this were my plant, I’d put it in the

loveliest container I had!”
My friend changed my mind. “I ran short of pots,” she
explained,” and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I
thought it wouldn’t mind starting out in this old pail. It’s just
for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden.”
She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly,
but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. “Here’s
an especially beautiful one,” God might have said when he
came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. “He won’t mind
starting in this small body.”
All this happened long ago — and now, in God’s garden,
how tall this lovely soul must stand!
The L O R D does not look at the things man looks at
“… for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD
looketh on the heart.” —1 Samuel 16:7
Blooms for the Neighbor
A story is told of a young woman who was a great lover

of flowers. She set out a rare vine at the base of a stone
wall. It grew vigorously but did not blossom. Day after day
she cultivated and watered it and tried in every way to coax
it to bloom. One morning, as she stood before the plant dis-
appointed, her invalid neighbor called to her and said, “You
cannot imagine how I have been enjoying the blooms on that
vine you planted.”
The young woman looked over the wall and there was a
mass of bloom. The vine had crept through the crevices and
bloomed on the other side. Poor girl! She thought that her
plant was a failure when all the time it was proving a blessing
to one who sorely needed it. The invalid was enriched and
blessed in every way because of the faithful efforts of that girl
in cultivating a single vine, even though the girl could not see
the results. How important it is, then, that we seek to create
the right kind of influence. The way we live, worship, act and
play may count for more than we think.
The Blind Man’s Lantern
T HERE is a story of a man who was walking down a dark

street and met another man with a staff and a lantern.
The striking thing, as the stranger noticed it, was that the man
was feeling his way with his staff, and apparently making no
use of the light. When asked if he were not blind, the man
replied that he was, but he knew the street well, and had no
difficulty in making his way with his staff. “But,” asked the
stranger, “why do you carry a lantern?” “To keep other people
without lanterns from stumbling over me,” was the blind
man’s answer. To be able only to tell others where not to go
is a small gift, but it is something. Not everyone can be a bril-
liant beacon in the world, but the humblest person can keep
himself from being a stumbling block.
A Special Person
They say it takes a minute to find a special person,
An hour to appreciate them,
A day to love them,
But a lifetime to forget them.
o There’s no limit to how much good you can do if you

don’t care who gets the credit.
o Christian forgiveness is like the sweetness given forth

by flowers when they are trampled upon.
The Many Names of Christ

To the Architect — he is the Chief Corner Stone.
To the Artist — he is the One Altogether Lovely.
To the Baker — he is the Living Bread.
To the Banker — he is the Hidden Treasure.
To the Biologist — he is the Life.
To the Builder — he is the Sure Foundation.
To the Carpenter — he is the Door.
To the Doctor — he is the Great Physician.
To the Educator — he is the Great Teacher.
To the Engineer — he is the New and Living Way.
To the Florist — he is the Rose of Sharon and
the Lily of the Valley.
To the Geologist — he is the Rock of Ages.
To the Horticulturist — he is the True Vine.
To the Jeweler — he is the Pearl of Great Price.
To the Judge — he is the Righteous Judge,
Judge of All Men.
To the Lawyer — he is the Counselor, the Law
Giver, the Advocate.
To the Oculist — he is the Light of the Eyes.
To the Philanthropist — he is the Unspeakable Gift.
To the Philosopher — he is the Wisdom of God.
To the Preacher — he is the Word of God.
To the Reporter — he is the Good Tidings of
Great Joy.
To the Sculptor — he is the Living Stone.
To the Servant — he is the Good Master.
To the Statesman — he is the Desire of All Nations.
To the Student — he is the Truth.
To the Theologian — he is the Author and Finisher
of our Faith.
To the Toiler — he is the Giver of Rest.

To the Sinner — he is the Lamb of God that
takes away the sin
of the world.
To the Christian — he is the Son of the Living God,
the Savior, the Re-
deemer and the Lord.
Living in the House You Build

O NE of my friends told me of a philanthropist who once
hired a contractor, who had been most unfortunate, to
build him a dwelling. He gave him authority to choose the
material and to govern every part of its construction. The
contractor felt that this was an opportunity for him to recov-
er some of his lost fortune, and he put into the building the
poorest material and the faultiest of work. When the house
was finished the philanthropist said, “This house is for you
and your family, and you can live in it as long as you please.
It is yours forever.” The contractor realized that he had built
a poor house in which he must now live. So our lives are
blighted if we build weakness into our characters and allow
sin to rule in our lives.
Straining the Musical Strings

As the musician straineth his strings,
and yet he breaketh none of them,
but maketh thereby
a sweeter melody and better concord,
so God, through affliction,
makes his own better
unto the fruition and blessing
of the life to come.
10
The Lips
of the
Righteous
feed many
P ROV E R B S 10 : 21
“Information Please”
W HEN I was quite young, my father had one of the first

telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the
polished case fastened to the wall.
The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too
little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascina-
tion when my mother talked to it. Then I discovered that
somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing
person — her name was “Information Please” and there was
nothing she did not know. “Information Please” could supply
anybody’s number and the correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle
came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor.
Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked
my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there
didn’t seem to be any reason in crying because there was
no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house
sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.
The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor
and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the
receiver and held it to my ear.
“Information Please,” I said into the mouthpiece just above
my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my
ear.
“Information.”
“I hurt my finger …” I wailed into the phone. The tears came
readily enough now that I had an audience.
“Isn’t your mother home?” came the question.
“Nobody’s home but me,” I blubbered.
“Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.
“No,” I replied. “I hit my finger with the hammer and it
hurts.”
“Can you open your icebox?” she asked. I said I could. “Then
chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger,” said the
voice.
After that, I called “Information Please” for everything. I
asked her for help with my geography and she told me where
Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me
10 : The lips of the righteous feed many 213
my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just the day
before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called
“Information Please” and told her the sad story. She listened,
then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But
I was inconsolable. I asked her, “Why is it that birds should
sing so beautifully and bring joy to all, only to end up as a
heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?”
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said qui-
etly, “Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to
sing in.” Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone. “Information Please.”
“Information,” said the now familiar voice. “How do you
spell fix?” I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest.
When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to
Boston. I missed my friend very much. “Information Please”
belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow
never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on
the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories
of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often,
in moments of doubt and perplexity, I would recall the serene
sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient,
understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a
little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put
down in Seattle. I had about half an hour between planes. I
spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived
there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed
my hometown operator and said, “Information Please.” Mi-
raculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.
“Information.”
I hadn’t planned this, but I heard myself saying, “Could you
please tell me how to spell fix?”
There was a long pause. Then came the soft-spoken an-
swer, “I guess your finger must have healed by now.”
I laughed. “So it’s really still you,” I said. “I wonder if you
have any idea how much you meant to me back then?”
“I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls
meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look for-
ward to your calls.”
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and
I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my
sister.
“Please do,” she said. “Just ask for Sally.”
Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice
answered “Information.” I asked for Sally. “Are you a friend?”
she said.
“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “Sally had been
working part-time the last few years because she was sick.
She died five weeks ago.”
Before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute. Is your
name Paul?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case
you called. Let me read it to you.” The note said, “Tell him I
still say there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I
mean.”
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you unknowingly
may make on others.
Following the Conscience
W .T. Stead, who went down on the Titanic, was one

of the many noble men on that doomed vessel who
stepped aside for the weaker. He was once offered the editor-
ship of a certain newspaper at a tempting salary. He asked
whether he would be absolutely free to direct the policy of
the paper. No, he was expected to conform to the general
policy of the publisher. He was not a rich man, but without
hesitation he refused the offer. When friends remonstrated
with him, telling him he could not afford to be so Quixotic,
he replied that he had “A Wealthy Partner” on whom he could
depend. That sort of religion counts.
When the Clock Stopped
A clock in a jewelry store window in a small town

stopped one day for half an hour, at fifteen minutes of
nine. School children, noticing the time, stopped to play; peo-
ple hurrying to the train, looking at the clock, began to walk
leisurely; professional men, after a look at the clock, stopped
to chat a minute longer in the sunshine; and all were half an
hour late because one small clock stopped. Never had these
people known how much they depended upon that clock till
it led them astray.
Many are thus depending upon the influence of Christians;
you may think you have no influence, but you cannot go
wrong in one little act without leading others astray.
The Wrong Book
B USY in his study, a minister was preparing his sermon for

the coming Sunday. He reached to the shelf at his side for
a book, and then remembered that he had left it downstairs.
His little daughter was playing in the bedroom, and he called
her. She came running, eager and delighted at the thought that
Papa needed her. He explained carefully where she could find
the book, and she went gladly, returning in a moment with
a book which he saw at a glance was the wrong one. But
he hardly looked at the book as he took it and laid it on the
table. He looked only at the eager face of his little daughter,
wreathed in smiles. Gathering her close to his heart, he kissed
her and said, “Thank you, darling.” And when she had gone
back happy and contented to her play, he went quietly for the
book he needed. I think I should like to listen to the sermons
that man would preach.
A Soft Answer Turneth Away Wrath
S OME time ago my wife was standing in a grocery line

with my five-year-old daughter, having to listen to a
foul-mouthed woman behind her complaining that the line
was moving too slowly. Her first impulse was to remind the
woman that a young impressionable child was being pol-
luted by her foul language. But the holy spirit re-directed my
wife. Instead of a swift rebuke from the flesh, this woman
heard, “You must be hurting really badly inside to be scream-
ing so loud on the outside.” The woman burst into tears and
the door was opened to bring healing into her life instead of
words which just would have made the walls around her
thicker. The prison doors were opening. My wife was set free
from her resentment and the woman was beginning to get
healed from deep wounds in her heart.
At a conference my wife attended recently, she heard a mis-
sionary relate a personal experience she had with a grumpy
bank teller in one of the foreign countries she worked in. The
bank teller apparently was sick of foreigners and let her feel-
ings be known to each one of them. She seemed to enjoy
belittling these foreigners. The abuse was so intense that
the missionary would do anything to get into a different line
whenever she went to the bank. On a particular day, there was
only one teller booth open. Needless to say, the abuser was on
duty. If it wasn’t for the fact that she desperately needed to
cash a check to buy food for the day, she would have walked
out of the bank just to avoid having to deal with that teller. As
she braced herself for the abuse, she begged God for words to
say to this woman. Face to face with her tormentor, out came
something like:
“Oh, it must be awfully hard to deal with us foreigners every
day. We just never seem to be able to understand the differ-
ences in currency. I don’t know how you put up with us, but I
am so grateful that you are available to help us. I don’t know
what we would do without you.”
The teller was utterly disarmed and left speechless as a tear
coursed its way down her cheek. The teller’s reaction led the
missionary to continue to share words of encouragement.
Over time, they became good friends and the teller’s hostility
towards foreigners diminished considerably.
The Christian’s “Wavemaster”
A MONG the gadgets used by “ham” (amateur radio) opera-

tors is one called the wave meter or absorption meter. It
is used to determine the frequency or wavelength of a trans-
mitter. When this contraption is placed in close proximity to
an activated transmitter, you turn the dial until the indicator
lamp lights, and by reading the dial you know the transmit-
ter’s frequency or wavelength.
The light of the lamp is not from a battery or other power
source in the wave meter, but from energy absorbed from the
transmitter, which energy is then converted into light. The
lamp lights only when the wave meter and the transmitter
are in exact resonance with each other. Turning the dial to
either side of this point of resonance extinguishes the light
completely.
While God in his power is everywhere present, compara-
tively few are able to discern his presence! The reason is that
they are not in tune with the Infinite God. We are like the little
wave meter. When we get in tune with God by way of conse-
cration, we receive of his spirit, which in turn is transformed
into the light, joy, peace, goodwill and happiness of our lives.
If we turn to the right or the left, his spirit is lost to us, and all
becomes darkness.
A. C. Frey
A Few Kind Words
O N one occasion the genial but sad-faced Eugene Field sat

at a table in a New York restaurant. The voluble waiter
rattled off a number of dishes that were ready for service.
Field looked at him solemnly for a moment then remarked,
“Oh, friend, I want none of those things. All I require is an
orange and a few kind words.” There was more pathos than
humor in the reply. To men and women of toil and travail,
how welcome are a few kind words! Without them a banquet
is a famine; with them an orange is a feast.
One Person
D R. Frank Mayfield was touring Tewksbury Institute when,

on his way out, he accidentally collided with an elderly
cleaning maid. To cover the awkward moment, Dr. Mayfield
started asking questions. “How long have you worked here?”
“I’ve worked here almost since the place opened,” the maid
replied. “What can you tell me about the history of this place?”
he asked.
“I don’t think I can tell you anything, but I could show you
something.”
With that, she took his hand and led him down to the base-
ment under the oldest section of the building. She pointed
to one of what looked like small prison cells, their iron bars
rusted with age, and said, “That’s the cage where they used
to keep Annie.”
“Who’s Annie?” the doctor asked.
“Annie was a young girl who was brought here because she
was incorrigible. Nobody could do anything with her. She’d
bite and scream and throw her food at people. The doctors
and nurses couldn’t even examine her without her spitting
and scratching at them.
“I was only a few years younger than her myself and I used
to think, ‘I sure would hate to be locked up in a cage like that.’
I wanted to help her, but I didn’t have any idea what I could
do. I mean, if the doctors and nurses couldn’t help her, what
could someone like me do?
“I didn’t know what else to do, so I just baked her some
brownies one night after work. The next day I brought them
in. I walked carefully to her cage and said, ‘Annie, I baked
these brownies just for you. I’ll put them right here on the
floor and you can come and get them if you want.’ Then I
got out of there just as fast as I could because I was afraid she
might throw them at me. But she didn’t. She actually took the
brownies and ate them.
“After that, she was just a little bit nicer to me when I was
around. And sometimes I’d talk to her. Once, I even got her
laughing. One of the nurses noticed this and she told the doc-
tor. They asked me if I’d help them with Annie. I said I would
if I could. So that’s how it came about that every time they

wanted to see Annie or examine her, I went into the cage first
and explained and calmed her down and held her hand. That’s
how they discovered that Annie was almost blind.
“After they’d been working with her for about a year — and it
was tough sledding with Annie — the Perkins Institute for the
Blind opened its doors. They were able to help her, and she
went on to study and became a teacher herself.
“Annie came back to the Tewksbury Institute to visit, and to
see what she could do to help out. At first, the Director didn’t
say anything, and then he thought about a letter he’d just re-
ceived. A man had written to him about his daughter. She was
absolutely unruly — almost like an animal.
“He’d been told she was blind and deaf as well as ‘deranged.’
He was at his wit’s end, but he didn’t want to put her in an
asylum. So he wrote here to ask if we knew of anyone — any
teacher — who would come to his house and work with his
daughter.
“And that is how Annie Sullivan became the lifelong compan-
ion of Helen Keller.
“When Helen Keller received the Nobel Prize, she was asked
who had the greatest impact on her life and she said, ‘Annie
Sullivan.’
“But Annie said, ‘No, Helen. The woman who had the great-
est influence on both our lives was a cleaning maid at the
Tewksbury Institute.’”
One Day at a Time
A certain lady had met with a serious accident, which

necessitated a painful operation and many months of
confinement in her bed. When the physician had finished his
work and was taking his leave, the patient asked, “Doctor,
how long shall I have to lie here, helpless?” “Oh, only one day
at a time,” was the cheery answer, and the poor sufferer was
not only comforted for the moment, but many times during
the succeeding weary weeks the thought, “only one day at a
time,” came back with its quieting influence.
It’s a Small, Small World

Let’s try to shrink the world down to a size manageable
for our minds. If we could shrink the earth’s population to
a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human
ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the
following—
There would be:
 57 Asians
 21 Europeans
 14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south
 8 would be Africans
 70 would be non-Christian
 30 would be Christian (that includes anyone espousing
the name of Christ)
 6 people would possess 59 percent of the entire world’s
wealth and all 6 would be from the United States.
 80 would live in substandard housing
 70 would be unable to read
 50 would suffer from malnutrition
 1 would be near death
 1 would be near birth
 1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education
 1 (yes, only 1) would own computer.
Thirty-six percent of the world’s military money is spent by

one nation, the United States.
1.1 billion people in the world live on less than $1 a day.
Christians are sending only 1.2 percent of their missions
funds to 1.1 billion who live in the unevangelized part of the
world.
The Bible still has not been translated into at least 2,000
languages.
Eighty-five percent of the world’s poorest nations are
located in the least evangelized part of the world.
If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back,
a roof overhead and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75
percent of this world.
If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare

change in a dish someplace, you are among the wealthiest
eight percent.
If you can attend a meeting to worship God without fear
of harassment, arrest, torture, or death, you are more blessed
than 3 billion people in the world.
If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the lone-
liness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of
starvation, you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.
If you can read this message, you are more blessed than
over 2 billion people in the world who cannot read at all.
In the time you read this message, over 250 children will
have died of preventable diseases, over 100 (mostly children)
will have died from bad drinking water, over 15 children will
have entered or been sold into prostitution and over 1,500
people will have been born into the unevangelized part of the
world.
Remember from this day forth what the condition of the
world is and how blessed you truly are!
Rabbi Talner’s Prayer
W HEN Jews get up in the morning, they first wash them-

selves and then immediately start their prayers, which
last for at least an hour. Christians, on the other hand, first
read the Bible, and only afterwards begin to pray.
Why?
Rabbi David Talner, contrary to the normal custom of the
Jews, used to start the day by reading his mail, and only prayed
afterwards. When asked why, he answered, “The more re-
nowned a man is, the more difficult is his struggle against be-
setting evil thoughts in prayer. So I always read my letters first.
Usually, they begin by addressing me as a righteous Rabbi, a
teacher, a leader, a holy man, or some other complimentary
phrase. Then I begin my prayer by saying, ‘LORD, you know
that I do not deserve these titles of honor. But since so many
men believe me to be so in all sincerity, do not put their faith
to shame. Make me become what they believe I am.’”
I Wish You Enough
A T an airport recently, I overheard a father and daughter

in their last moments together. Standing near the secu-
rity gate as her flight began boarding, they hugged and he said,
“I love you. I wish you enough.”
She in turn said, “Daddy, our life together has been more
than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough,
too, Daddy.” They kissed and she left.
He walked over to where I was seated by the window. I
could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude
on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, “Did you
ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be
forever?”
“Yes, I have,” I replied.
Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my
love and appreciation for all my dad had done for me.
Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to
tell him face to face how much he meant to me. So I knew
what this man was experiencing.
“Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?”
I asked.
“I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges
ahead and the reality is, her next trip back will be for my
funeral,” he said.
“When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, ‘I wish
you enough.’ May I ask what that means?”
He began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed
down from past generations. My parents used to say it to
everyone.”
He paused for a moment and, looking up as if trying to re-
member it in detail, he smiled even more. “When we said ‘I
wish you enough,’ we wanted the other person to have a life
filled with just enough good things to sustain them,” he con-
tinued, and then turning toward me he shared the following
as if he were reciting it from memory:
“I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life

appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wants.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you pos-
sess.
I wish enough ‘Hello’s’ to get you through the final
‘Good-bye.’”
He then began to sob and walked away.
It’s the Chords that Count
D R. F. B. Meyer related a beautiful story of a little girl stay-

ing at a summer hotel. She was at that trying age when
small fingers are beginning to find their way about the piano,
striking as many wrong notes as right ones, and not particu-
larly sensitive to the anguish such attempts cause others. A
brilliant musician was also staying at the hotel. He came into
the drawing-room, where the girl was plunking away on
the piano, to the annoyance of the many other people in
the room. He quickly appraised the situation and sat down
beside the small musician. He began to accompany her with
the most exquisite improvisation. Each note of hers only gave
him a new motif for chords of surpassing beauty, while the
crowd in the drawing room listened breathlessly. When the
performance was over, the great musician took the child by
the hand and introduced her as the one to whom they were
indebted for the music. Her efforts had led to his magnificent
accompaniment, but his part in the performance left a deep
impression.
It is the Lord’s presence with the Christian that makes the
difference. “Apart from him we can do nothing” acceptable. If
we achieve, it is because he works with us and through us. To
God be the glory!
The Light Within
P EOPLE are like stained glass windows. They sparkle and

shine when the sun is out. But in the darkness, beauty is
seen only if there is a light within. Let us today start looking
for that light. But more so, let us learn to let our own light
shine brightly.
“Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of
plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of ap-
parel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is
not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit,
which is in the sight of God of great price.”—1 Peter 3:3,4
Animals Attack from the Rear
A NIMAL trainers say that the secret of safely handling

all beasts of the cat species, such as lions, tigers, and
leopards, is to keep them constantly afraid of you. The instant
they get over their fear, they will attack anyone who crosses
their path. They are all treacherous, too, and often gather
courage for an attack when the master’s eyes are turned away
from them. One never knows when they will get over their
fear and spring at the keeper if they have a chance to do it
from behind. Our fight with the devil is like that. He is always
seeking to attack us from the rear or in ambush. “The devil
goes about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour,”
but he is a great coward when faced with courage. “Resist the
devil and he will flee from you” is as true in our time as it was
when the Apostle James first declared it.
The Scent of Danger
A short time ago I read a story that made me thoughtful.

A great menagerie was sold at auction. Some straw that
had been used as temporary bedding for the wild beasts was
bought by a man who owned a livery stable. And horses that
had never seen a lion were uneasy and refused to enter the
stalls where the straw was. It was an instinctive dread of an
unseen enemy. And it is possible for a conscience to be so del-
icately adjusted to the voice of God that when a lure which
we do not certainly know to be sinful, a cunningly baited
trap for the soul, is placed in our path, there is a spiritual in-
stinct, a divine scent, that makes us draw back and avoid the
danger. The Apostle Paul had such a conscience.
Feeling the Tug
D OCTOR Bosworth of Oberlin was in the habit of taking a

walk late every afternoon. One day while so engaged he
came across a lad flying a kite. The afternoon was a stormy
one, the clouds were hanging low. The boy had played out an
enormous length of twine and the kite was lost in the clouds.
The professor asked the boy what he was doing, and when
the lad replied that he was flying a kite, Dr. Bosworth con-
tinued: “But how do you know you have a kite on the end of
that string? You can’t see it.” The boy, not looking at the noted
educator, replied: “Because I can feel the tug of it.”
11
Whoever loves
Discipline
loves knowledge
P ROV E R B S 12 :1
The Ingredients of Zeal
I sat down in my armchair, weary with work; my toil had

been severe and protracted. The church wore an aspect
of thrift and prosperity. Joy and hope and courage were the
prevailing sentiments on every hand. As for myself: I was
joyous in my work; my brethren were united; my sermons
and exhortations were evidently telling on my hearers; my
church was crowded with members; the whole community
was more or less moved by the prevailing excitement; and so
the work went on. I had been led into exhausting labors for
its promotion.
Tired from my efforts, I soon lost myself in a dream-like
trance, though I seemed fully aware of my surroundings. A
stranger entered the room, without any announcement. I saw
in his face benevolence, intelligence and weight of character;
but though he was passably well attired, he carried various
measures and chemicals and implements, which gave him a
very strange appearance.
The stranger came toward me, and extending his hand he
asked, “How is your zeal?”
I supposed when he began to speak that the query was to
be for my health. But I was pleased to hear his final word,
for I was quite well-pleased with my zeal, and I knew the
stranger would smile when he saw its proportions. Instinc-
tively I conceived of it as a physical quantity, and putting my
hand to my bosom, brought it forth and presented it to him
for his inspection.
He took it and, placing it on his scale, weighed it carefully.
I heard him say, “One hundred pounds!”
I could scarcely suppress a cry of satisfaction. But I caught
his earnest look as he noted down the weight, and I saw at
once that he was intent on pushing his investigation.
He broke the mass to atoms, put it in his crucible, and put
the crucible into the fire. When the mass was thoroughly
melted, he took it out and set it down to cool. It congealed
into a series of layers or strata. At the stroke of the hammer
the layers fell apart, and were each tested and weighed. The
stranger made detailed notes as the process continued.
11 : Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge 229
When he had finished, he presented the notes to me. He

gave me a look of mingled sorrow and compassion, as with a
parting “May God save you!” he left the room.
I opened the note and read as follows:
Analysis of the zeal of Junis, a candidate for the crown of
glory: weight in mass, 100 pounds, of which, on analysis,
there proves to be,
m Bigotry —10 parts
m Personal ambition —23 parts
m Pride of talent —14 parts
m Love of praise —19 parts
m Pride of denomination —15 parts
m Love of authority —12 parts
m Love of God —4 parts
m Love of man —3 parts
I had been troubled at the peculiar manner of the stranger,
and especially at his parting look and words; but when I
looked at the figures my heart sank. I made a mental effort
to dispute the correctness of the report, but was suddenly
startled into a more honest mood by an audible sigh, almost
a groan, from the stranger, who had paused in the hall, and
by a sudden darkness falling upon me. I cried out, “Lord,
save me!”
I knelt down by my chair, with the paper in my hand, and
my eyes fixed upon it. At once it became a mirror, and I saw
my heart reflected in it. The record is true! I saw it; I felt it;
I confessed it; I deplored it; and I begged God, with many
tears, to save me from myself. At length, with a loud and
irrepressible cry of anguish, I awoke.
Is the Jar Full?
O NE day, an expert in time management was speaking to

a group of business students and, to drive home a point,
used an illustration those students will never forget. As he
stood in front of the group of high-powered overachievers he
said, “Okay, time for a quiz,” and he pulled out a one-gallon,
wide-mouth Mason jar and set it on the table in front of him.
He also produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and care-
fully placed them, one at a time, into the jar. When the jar
was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he
asked, “Is this jar full?”
Everyone in the class yelled, “Yes.”
The time management expert replied, “Really?”
He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of
gravel. He dumped some gravel in and shook the jar, causing
pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the spaces
between the big rocks.
He then asked the group once more, “Is the jar full?”
By this time the class was on to him. “Probably not,” one
of them answered.
“Good!” he replied.
He reached under the table and brought out a bucket of
sand. He started dumping the sand in the jar and it went into
all of the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel.
Once more he asked the question, “Is this jar full?”
“No!” the class shouted.
Once again he said, “Good.”
Then he grabbed a bottle of wine and began to pour it into
the jar until it was full to the brim. The students laughed.
The expert asked, “What is the point of this experiment?”
One eager beaver raised his hand and said, “The point is,
no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard
you can always fit some more things into it.”
“No,” the speaker replied, “that’s not the point. This jar rep-
resents your life. The rocks are the important things — your
spirituality, your partner, your family, your health, your
passions — things that if everything else was lost and only
they remained, your life would still be full.
“The gravel represents the other things that matter, like
your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything

else — the small stuff.
“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there
won’t be any room for the rocks or the gravel. The same goes
for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the
small stuff, you will never have room for the things that mat-
ter most. So pay attention to the rocks, the things that are
critical to your happiness. Maintain a close relationship with
God. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play with your children.
Take time to get medical checkups. There will always be time
to go to work, clean the house, and fix the disposal.”
One student raised her hand and asked what the wine
represented. The speaker smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just
goes to show that no matter how full your life may seem,
there’s always time for a glass of wine with a friend!”
The Broken Microscope
M ACAULAY tells the story of a young scientist in India who

acquired a microscope. Beneath it he placed a drop of
water from the Ganges, the sacred river of India. He looked
and beheld an infinite pollution. In a rage, he broke the micro-
scope in pieces and threw it away. The Ganges continued car-
rying its infection to the sea, but he would not see it. Foolish,
you say. But no more foolish than the way most people close
their eyes to the facts of their own life. They don’t have the
courage to look at the truth. They prefer to live all their days
in a fool’s paradise. In their sincerest moments there is some
insincerity. Their self-examination is nothing more than self-
defense. They can put a favorable construction upon almost
any action when dealing with themselves.
Incompatible Pictures
D R. Barbour tells of a young fellow who went off to col-

lege. His mother said she would like to go along and get
him started right, but he said, “No, Mother; let me go and get
settled myself.”
She did not visit him until he was in his second year. After
he had shown her the college and its various buildings and
classrooms, she said, “Take me to your room.” He said, “All
right.” They went up to his room. There were a pair of oars,
a football, a baseball with some gold letters on it, a tennis
racket — all the indications of an athletic college boy. Then
she looked up and saw some pictures on the wall that ought
never to be on anybody’s wall. She was a very wise mother,
and said nothing.
When Christmas came, the young man received two pack-
ages from his mother. One was marked for his room, and
upon opening it he found a beautiful picture of Hoffmann’s
Christ.
The mother went to visit him again in the early spring. The
boy met her very gladly and showed her around, and by and
by she asked to go up to his room. She looked around the
room: there were the oars, the football, baseball, and tennis
racket; then she glanced up where the pictures were before,
but they were not there. Facing the door, where it was the
first thing that you saw as you entered the room, was the face
of Christ. The mother said, “By the way, William, there were
some other pictures here when I visited before.” He said, “Oh
well, Mother, you see, they did not fit in with him.”
Kill the Iv y When it’s Small
I N the gardens of Hampton Court, visitors used to see trees

that were well-nigh strangled by huge coils of ivy, which
were wound about them like the snake around the unhappy
Laocoön. There was no untwisting of the folds, they were
too giant-like and fast-fixed, and every hour the rootlets of
the climber were sucking out the life of the unhappy tree. Yet
there was a day when the ivy was a tiny sprig, only asking a
little aid in climbing. Had it been denied then, the tree would
never have become its victim. Vice, intemperance, lust, anger,
avarice — like the vine — twine about a man, extracting the
life from him and leaving him a wreck.
The Crowded House
O NCE upon a time there was a man who lived with his
wife, two small children, and his elderly parents in a tiny
hut. He tried to be patient and gracious, but the noise and
crowded conditions wore him down.
In desperation, he consulted the village wise man. “Do you
have a rooster?” asked the wise man.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Keep the rooster in the hut with your family, and come see
me again next week.”
The next week, the man returned and told the wise elder
that living conditions were worse than ever, with the rooster
crowing and making a mess of the hut. “Do you have a cow?”
asked the wise elder. The man nodded fearfully. “Take your
cow into the hut as well, and come see me in a week.”
Over the next several weeks, the man — on the advice of
the wise elder — made room for a goat, two dogs, and his
brother’s children.
Finally, he could take no more, and in a fit of anger, kicked
out all the animals and guests, leaving only his wife, his chil-
dren, and his parents. The home suddenly seemed spacious
and quiet, and everyone lived happily ever after.
Spring — Life Anew
H OW refreshing is the Spring, with its resurgence of life

after the cold and barren Winter! Roots that have been
lying dormant in the ground are awakened — called forth by
their returning lord, the sun. The grasses, flowers and trees
all begin to manifest the resurrection. How appropriate that
Jehovah God ordained that the Passover should be in the
Spring of the year. It was at this season that Jesus was resur-
rected from the dead. Therefore, every little blade of grass that
pushes its way out of its prison-house of death, every blossom
that wafts its fragrance on the Spring breezes, and every tree
that puts forth its new foliage, is but a mute memorial of that
Resurrection and the assurance of the general resurrection of
all the countless dead, when, as Jesus declared, “…all that
are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth …”
— John 5:28-29
A. C. Frey
Wounded Nasturtiums
M ANY years ago, dear old Bro. R. H. Hirsh told the story
of a large garden of beautiful nasturtiums — the flowers
whose leaves are like miniature umbrellas. A very heavy hail-
storm broke over this area in Philadelphia. It inflicted much
damage upon the gardens, and particularly on this beautiful
bed of nasturtiums. Relentlessly, the hailstones cut the little
flowers into shreds and ribbons, until the garden was a very
sorry sight to behold. However, after the storm, when peace
and tranquility again prevailed, the air was redolent with such
a fragrance from these “wounded” and “bruised” flowers as it
had never been before!
So with us, our trials and experiences, though very severe,
should make us yet more kind and benevolent, blessing all
those around us. Perfected through suffering!
A. C. Frey
The Spot on the Inside
W HILE walking down the street one day I passed a man

who was washing a large plate glass window. There
was one soiled spot which defied efforts to remove it. After
rubbing hard at it, using much soap and water, and failing to
remove it, he found out the trouble. “It’s on the inside,” he
called out to someone in the store.
Many are striving to cleanse the soul of its stains. They
wash it with the tear of sorrow; they scrub it with the soap of
good resolves; they rub it with the chamois of morality — but
still the consciousness of it is not removed. The trouble is,
“It’s on the inside.” It is the heart that is bad. If the fountain is
bitter, the stream will not be sweet.
Seeing the Guilty Seven Miles Away
O NE day the astronomer, Mitchell, was making observa-

tions on the sun just as it was setting, and there came
into range of the great telescope the top of a hill seven miles
distant. On the hilltop were several apple trees, and in one
of them were two boys stealing apples. One was getting the
apples and the other was watching to make sure that nobody
saw them. But there sat Professor Mitchell, seven miles away,
with the great eye of the telescope full upon them, noting
every motion and even the guilty expression of their faces, as
plainly as if he had been in the tree with them.
Think not, because no man sees, that such things will re-
main unseen!
The Call of the Barnyard
A flock of wild ducks were flying in formation, heading

south for the Winter. They formed a beautiful “V” in
the sky and were admired by everyone who saw them from
below.
One day Wally, one of the wild ducks in the formation,
spotted something on the ground that caught his eye. It was
a barnyard with a flock of tame ducks who lived on the farm.
They were waddling around on the ground, quacking mer-
rily and eating corn that was thrown on the ground for them
every day.
Wally liked what he saw. “It sure would be nice to have
some of that corn,” he thought to himself. “And all this flying
is very tiring. I’d like to just waddle around for a while.” So
after thinking it over, Wally left the formation of wild ducks,
made a sharp dive to the left, and headed for the barnyard.
He landed among the tame ducks and began to waddle
around and quack merrily. He also started eating corn. The
formation of wild ducks continued their journey south, but
Wally didn’t care. I’ll rejoin them when they come back this
way in a few months, he said to himself.
Several months went by and sure enough, Wally looked up
and spotted the flock of wild ducks in formation, heading
north. They looked beautiful up there. And Wally was tired
of the barnyard.
It was muddy, and everywhere he waddled there was
nothing but muck. “It’s time to leave,” said Wally. So Wally
flapped his wings furiously and tried to get airborne. But he
had gained some weight from all his corn eating, and he
hadn’t exercised his wings much either.
He finally got off the ground, but he was flying too low and
slammed into the side of the barn. He fell to the ground with
a thud and said to himself, “Oh well, I’ll just wait until they
fly south in a few months. Then I’ll rejoin them and become
a wild duck again.”
But when the flock flew overhead once more, Wally again
tried to lift himself out of the barnyard. He simply didn’t
have the strength. Every Winter and every Spring, he saw his
wild duck friends flying overhead, and they would call out to
him. But his attempts to leave were all in vain.
Eventually Wally no longer paid any attention to the wild
ducks flying overhead. He hardly even noticed them. He had,
after all, become a barnyard duck.
Sometimes we get tired of being wild ducks — followers
of Jesus Christ. It’s not always easy to be obedient to God
and to discipline ourselves to hang in there for the long haul.
When we are feeling that way, we are tempted to “fall out of
formation” and to join the barnyard ducks — the world.
But see what happened to Wally? He thought he would just
“check it out” for a while and leave when he wanted to. But he
couldn’t do it. Sin is like that. Sin is a trap, and it has a way of
changing us into people we don’t even want to become.
Eventually, we lose touch with what we really are — the
sons and daughters of the Most High. We become barnyard
ducks.
Drowning in a Canoe
O NE of the men who accompanied Commodore Peary to

the North Pole has since drowned in a canoe in some
waters near his home. After escaping the perils of cracks in
the polar ice, and giving the most human account of the dash
to the north, George Borup lost his life in what he must have
considered quite a negligible peril compared with those he
had passed through. It is so in the moral life. Souls that can
successfully brave the big perils are often the victims of the
small ones. A temptation to be dishonorable in a big matter is
easily overcome; but many yield to the temptation to be care-
less in small things.
Creosote
D OWN in the railroad yard the other morning I saw a box-

car loaded with railroad ties that had been thoroughly
soaked in creosote solution. I noticed on this warm day that
this one car was completely free from pestiferous bugs and
insects of all kinds, though the cars about it were alive with
all kinds of life. The clean antiseptic creosote created an
atmosphere that was so uncongenial to the pests that they
avoided it. The Christian whose life is constantly immersed in
the Word frees himself from the pestiferous little worries and
temptations of life. The atmosphere of the Word is inimical to
their presence. The Christian is “clean” through the Word.
The Woodpecker and the Telephone Pole
O NE Sunday morning as people were going to church, a

telephone pole, large and strong and round, suddenly
groaned and trembled. With a great snapping sound, the up-
per half of the pole fell to the ground, like a great strong man
struck down by an unseen bullet. A crowd soon gathered,
marveling what could have caused such a catastrophe. Just
then a small boy began to climb the stump to investigate.
When he reached the top he found that right where the pole
had broken was a scooped-out place where a pair of wood-
peckers had built their nest, and there in the nest was a poor
little woodpecker frightened half to death.
Unnoticed but steadily, stroke by stroke, the birds had dug
their way into the heart of that great, strong telephone pole
until they had sapped its strength. Sometimes a man comes
crashing down. The whole world marvels at it; but in time it
is discovered that some secret sin had eaten into his heart.
Helping the Butterfly
O NE day a naturalist was studying a cocoon, from which

a butterfly was struggling to be free. He heard it beating
against the sides of its little prison, and his heart went out in
pity for the helpless creature.
Using a tiny lancet, he cut away the fragile walls and re-
leased the little captive. But to his amazement it was not the
beautiful creature that he had expected to see. It lay strug-
gling upon the table, unable to walk, unable to fly, a helpless,
unlovely object. Instead of the gorgeously colored wings
were weak, shriveled limbs.
What was the matter with this creature that should have
been so beautiful? The prison gates had been opened too soon.
The obstacle had been removed before the struggler had
grown strong, through struggling, to be ready for its glori-
ous flight into the sunshiny skies and among the perfumed
flowers.
O God, when the walls seem to close about us, when we
struggle and agonize to be free, yet the barriers remain — is
it not because, in your infinite wisdom, you see that we are
weak, and you want us to become strong? When the struggle
is finished at last, like the butterfly we may come forth — in
glorious robes of splendid colors, in the everlasting robes of
righteousness.
Boiled by Degrees
I N a certain laboratory experiment a live frog was placed

in water heated at the rate of .0036 of a degree Fahrenheit
per second. The frog never moved or showed any sign of dis-
tress, but was found at the end of two and a half hours to be
dead. The explanation was that the temperature of the water
changed so gradually that the frog never recognized its danger.
It was boiled to death without noticing it.
Many a man grows so accustomed to his evil environment
that he fails to realize how he is being spiritually ruined.
The Speeding Ticket
J ACK took a good look at his speedometer before slowing

down: 73 in a 55 mph zone. The flashing red lights in his
rear-view mirror insisted he pull over quickly, but Jack let the
car coast. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy
get caught so often? When his car had slowed to 10 miles an
hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry
about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some passing car
will graze his backside with a mirror. Jack slumped into his
seat, the collar of his trench coat covering his ears. He tapped
on the steering wheel, doing his best to look bored, his eyes
on the rear-view mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car,
the big pad in hand. Bob? Bob from church? Jack sank farther
into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket.
A Christian cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy
who happened to be a little eager to get home after a long day
at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.
Jack was tempted to leave the window shut long enough to
gain the psychological edge, but decided on a different tack.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every
Sunday, a man he’d never seen in uniform.
“Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this.”
“Hello, Jack.” No smile.
“Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife
and kids.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
“I’ve seen some long days at the office lately. I’m afraid I
bent the rules a bit — just this once.” Jack toed at a pebble on
the pavement. “Diane said something about roast beef and
potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?”
“I know what you mean. I also know that you have a repu-
tation in our precinct.” Ouch. This was not going in the right
direction. Time to change tactics.
“What’d you clock me at?”
“Seventy-one. Would you get back in your car, please?”
“Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw
you. I was barely nudging 65.”
The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
“Please, Jack, in the car.”
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open

door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was
in no rush to open the window.
The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad.
Why hadn’t he asked for a driver’s license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays be-
fore Jack ever sat near this cop again.
A tap on the window and Jack jerked his head to the left.
There was Bob, a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the
window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass
him the slip.
“Thanks.” Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his
voice.
Bob returned to his car without a word.
Jack watched his retreat in the mirror, bottom teeth gnaw-
ing his upper lip. When Bob vanished inside his car, Jack
unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going
to cost? Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke?
Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:
Dear Jack,
Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when she
was killed by a car. You guessed it — a speeding driver. After
a fine and three months in jail, the man was free. Free to
hug his daughters. All three of them. I only had one, and I’m
going to have to wait for the resurrection before I can hug
her again. A thousand times I’ve tried to forgive that man. A
thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do
it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all
I have left.
Bob
Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Then he twisted

around in time to see Bob’s car pull away and head down
the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes
later, he, too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying
for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when
he arrived.
12
He who is
slow to Anger
has great
understanding
P ROV E R B S 14 : 2 9
Robby
I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano

lessons. Over the years I found that children have many
levels of musical ability. I’ve never had the pleasure of hav-
ing a prodigy, though I have taught some talented students.
However, I’ve also had my share of what I call “musically
challenged” pupils. One such student was Robby.
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom)
dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students
(especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to
Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother’s
dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student.
Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning
I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried,
he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel.
But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary
pieces that I require all my students to learn.
Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and
cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly
lesson he’d always say, “My mom’s going to hear me play
some day.” But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any
inborn ability.
I only saw his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby
off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved
and smiled but never stopped in. Then one day Robby stopped
coming to his lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed,
because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue
something else. I also was a little glad that he had stopped
coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed to the students’ homes a flyer
about the upcoming recital. To my surprise, Robby (who
received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told
him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had
dropped out he really did not qualify.
He said that his mom had been sick and unable to take him
to piano lessons, but he was still practicing. “Miss Hondorf,
I’ve just got to play!” he insisted. I don’t know what led me to
allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence
or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would
12 : He who is slow to anger has great understanding 245
be all right.
The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium
was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby
up last in the program before I was to come up and thank
all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any
damage he would do would come at the end of the program
and I could always salvage his poor performance through my
“curtain closer.”
Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had
been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage.
His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he’d run an
eggbeater through it. “Why didn’t he dress up like the other
students?” I thought. “Why didn’t his mother at least make
him comb his hair for this special night?”
Robby pulled out the piano bench, sat down and began to
play. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen
Mozart’s Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what
I heard next.
His fingers were light and nimble on the keys. He went from
pianissimo to fortissimo … from allegro to presto. Never had I
heard Mozart played so well by anyone his age. After six and a
half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was
on their feet in wild applause.
Overcome and in tears, I ran up on stage and joyfully put
my arms around Robby. “I’ve never heard you play like that,
Robby! How’d you do it?”
Through the microphone, Robby explained: “Well, Miss
Hondorf … remember I told you my mom was sick? Well
actually she had cancer, and she passed away this morning.
And, well … she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time
she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house that evening. As the
people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be
placed into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red
and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life
had been for taking Robby as my pupil.
But that night, Robby was the teacher and I was the pupil.
He taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and be-
lieving in yourself. He taught me to take a chance on someone
even if you don’t know why.
Let the Mud Dry
A young man had been badly insulted, and, full of angry

indignation, declared that he was going at once to
demand an apology. “My dear boy,” said Father Graham, a
beloved old man of the village, “take a word of advice from an
old man who loves peace. An insult is like mud: it will brush
off much better when it is dry. Wait a little, till he and you are
both cool, and the thing will be easily mended. If you go now
it will only be to quarrel.”
The young man took his advice, and before the next day
was done, the insulting person came to beg forgiveness.
The Wolves Within
A grandson told of his anger at a schoolmate who had

done him an injustice. Grandfather said, “Let me tell
you a story.
“I, too, have felt a great hate for those who have taken so
much, with no remorse for what they do. But hate wears you
down and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking poison
and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with
these feelings many times.
“It is as if there are two wolves inside me; one is good and
does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and
does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will
only fight when it is right to do so and in the right way.
“But the other wolf is full of anger. The littlest thing will
send him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time,
for no reason. He cannot think, because his anger and hate
are so great.
“It is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both
of them try to dominate my spirit.”
The boy looked intently into his grandfather’s eyes and
asked, “Which one wins, Grandfather?”
The grandfather solemnly replied, “The one I feed.”
Watching the Sun Move
T WO children were playing on a hillside when they no-

ticed that the hour was nearing sunset, and one said
wonderingly, “See how far the sun has gone! A little while ago
it was right over that tree, and now it is low down in the sky.”
“Only it isn’t the sun that moves, it’s the earth. Father told us,”
answered the other. The first one shook his head. The sun did
move, for he had seen it; and the earth did not move, for he
had been standing on it all the time. “I know what I see,” he
said triumphantly. “And I believe Father,” said his brother. So
mankind divides still — some accepting only what their senses
reveal to them, the others believing the Word of God.
Captain Not Drunk Tonight
A sea captain, long noted for his rigid discipline, once

came upon his first mate lying drunk. To settle an old
score, the captain wrote in the logbook: “Last night First Mate
Johnson intoxicated.”
The entry rankled Johnson and he waited for revenge. Fi-
nally the chance came when he was assigned to write several
entries in the log. With a bold hand, he wrote: “Captain Smith
not drunk tonight.”
Some of us might have a literal point of view about the truth
and say that, after all, the mate had only written what was
true about the captain. But the fact is he told the truth with
every intention of deceiving.
It takes quite a stretch of imagination to believe we can do
right when our intention is to do wrong.
The Child and the Gun
E ARLY in my Christian ministry I was called to apprehend a

man who had gone insane. After we had captured him in
a field, we found that he carried a loaded revolver. I returned
it to his wife, but she said, “I don’t want that gun. You’d bet-
ter keep it, I don’t want to see it any more.” So I took the gun,
with some of the bullets, brought it home and placed it in one
of the drawers of my desk, and promptly forgot about it.
My son, Richard, a lad of about five, was rummaging
through my desk one day and came upon the revolver and
bullets. “Daddy, look what I found! May I have this? May I
have this?” Now, of course, you who are parents know what I
did. Though he begged me to give him the gun, I quickly took
it away from him, after looking to see whether any bullets
were in the magazine. “No, no, Richard,” I said, “you cannot
have that gun. It’s too dangerous for you.”
Did my son understand? He did not!
Christian friends, are we not like that? We are only chil-
dren of faith. We plead and pray and petition for something
we think we cannot do without, something which seems to
be the most precious thing in all our lives. Yet our Heavenly
Father says firmly and tenderly, “No, my child, I must refuse
this petition. I cannot let you have this thing that you feel you
need more than anything else in your life.” Although we can-
not understand now, when we reach the maturity of the sons
of God and meet him face to face, we shall understand.
Taking a Second Glance
A traveler in North Carolina saw an old man sitting in

a chair in his garden, hoeing. The traveler laughed.
He thought it was a case of monumental laziness. But he
happened to look again as he laughed, and he saw a pair of
crutches lying on the ground by the old man’s chair. What had
at first struck him as ridiculous now appeared heroic.
When disposed to criticize, remember human frailties.
Giving Two-Fold
A good lawyer learns many lessons in the school of hu-

man nature, and thus it was that Lawyer Hackett agreed
to purchase a tract of land which had been “lawed over”
for years. Some people wondered why he wanted to get hold
of property which had such an incubus of uncertainty upon it.
Others thought that perhaps he welcomed some legal sparring
and would pitch in to fight that fence line question on his own
behalf. That’s what the owner of the adjoining land thought.
So he braced himself for trouble when he saw Hackett com-
ing across the field one day. Said Hackett, “What’s your claim
here, anyway, as to this fence?”
“Your fence is over on my land two feet at one end, and one
foot at the other end.”
“Well,” replied Hackett, “you go ahead and set your fence
over. At the end where you say that I encroach on you two
feet, set the fence on my land four feet. At the other end push
it on my land two feet.”
“But,” objected the neighbor, “that’s twice what I claim.”
“I don’t care about that,” said Hackett. “There’s been fight
enough over this land. I want you to take enough so you are
perfectly satisfied, and then we can get along pleasantly. Go
ahead and help yourself.”
The man paused, abashed. He had been ready to commence
the old struggle, tooth and nail, but this move by the new
neighbor stunned him. Yet he wasn’t to be outdone in gen-
erosity. He looked at Hackett. “Squire,” said he, “that fence
ain’t going to be moved an inch. I don’t want the land. There
wasn’t anything in the fight … but the principle of the thing.”
How often has a soft answer turned away wrath!
On Business for the Firm
A traveling salesman was telling a friend about some

poor treatment he had received in a certain establish-
ment during his rounds. The rudeness and injustice he recited
stirred the listener to protest. “And you did nothing about it
afterwards? You let it go too easily! A fellow like that deserves
to be taught a lesson.” “Yes, but — I’m not here to avenge per-
sonal wrongs; I’m on business for the firm,” answered the
salesman. He must do nothing to hinder or bring discredit
upon the work intrusted to him. How much more true of us
who are intrusted with the Lord’s business?
The Fence
T H E R E was a boy with a bad temper. His father gave him

a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his
temper, he had to hammer a nail in the back fence.
The first day the boy drove 37 nails into the fence. The next
day, only 25. It gradually dwindled down. He discovered it
was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into
the fence.
Finally the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper
at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that
the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able
to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was
finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.
The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence.
He said, “You have done well, my son, but look at the holes
in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say
things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put
a knife in a man and draw it out. It won’t matter how many
times you say ‘I’m sorry,’ the wound is still there. A verbal
wound is as bad as a physical one.”
On Peace
h If peace … only had the music and pageantry of war,
there’d be no more wars.—Sophie Kerr
hDear God, Please send to me the spirit of Your peace.
Then send, dear Lord, the spirit of peace from me to all the
world. Amen.—Marianne Williamson
h Great tranquility of heart is his who cares for neither
praise nor blame.—Thomas à Kempis
h He who joyfully marches to music in rank and file
has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large
brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would fully
suffice. This disgrace to civilization should be done away
with at once. Heroism at command, senseless brutality, de-
plorable love-of-country stance, how violently I hate all this,
how despicable and ignoble war is; I would rather be torn to
shreds than be a part of so base an action! It is my convic-
tion that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act
of murder. —Albert Einstein
hI keep the telephone of my mind open to peace, har-
mony, health, love and abundance. Then whenever doubt,
anxiety, or fear try to call me, they keep getting a busy signal
and soon they’ll forget my number.—Edith Armstrong
h Mankind must put an end to war, or war will put an
end to mankind … War will exist until that distant day when
the conscientious objector enjoys the same reputation and
prestige that the warrior does today.—John F. Kennedy
hA merely fallen enemy may rise again, but the recon-
ciled one is truly vanquished.—Johan Christoph Schiller
hFear knocked at the door. Faith answered. No one was
there.—Inscription at Hind’s Head Inn in England
hIt is easy enough to be friendly to one’s friends. But
to befriend the one who regards himself as your enemy is
the quintessence of true religion. The other is mere busi-
ness.—Gandhi
hI keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still
believe that people are really good at heart.—Anne Frank
The Blessing of a Broken Leg
M R. McConkey told of a lady summering in Switzerland

who went for a stroll and came to a shepherd’s fold. She
looked in at the door. There sat the shepherd and nearby on a
pile of straw lay a single sheep seemingly in suffering. Asking
what was the trouble, she was told that the lamb’s leg was
broken. The shepherd said that he himself had broken it. It
was a most wayward animal and would not follow nor obey
and so misled the others. He had had experience with sheep
of this kind, so he broke one of its legs. The first day when he
took it food, it tried to bite him. He let it lie for a couple of
days then went back to it. It not only took the food but licked
his hand, showing every sign of submission and affection. He
said when it was well, it would be the model sheep of the
flock. It had learned obedience through suffering.
Many times out of our very agony of heart, the God of love
seeks to bring into our lives the supremest blessing that can
enrich and glorify our lives — the blessing of a human will
yielded to the will of God. Scripture assures God’s children
that afflictions are for their profit “that we might be partakers
of his holiness” and that we might “yield the peaceable fruit
of righteousness.”
Arrows on the Head
W E have read of Caesar having prepared a great feast for

his nobles and friends. It happened that the day ap-
pointed was so extremely foul that nothing could be done to
the honor of the meeting, whereupon he was so displeased
and enraged that he commanded all who had bows to shoot
up their arrows at Jupiter, their chief god, as if in defiance of
him for that rainy weather. When they did this their arrows
fell short of heaven and struck their own heads, so that many
of them were sorely wounded. So our murmurings, which are
so many arrows shot at God, will return upon our own heads;
they won’t hurt him, but will wound us.
Living with the Dandelions

A man who had purchased a most beautiful estate found
in his grassy lawns a goodly number of little yellow
flowers — dandelions. While their petals looked resplendently
golden in the morning sun, he knew that if he took no mea-
sures to rid his lawns of these encroachers, it would not be
long before his lawns would be completely overrun. Not
knowing what to do, he wrote for advice to the Department
of Agriculture, in Washington, D.C. They suggested that he
use a certain chemical that would destroy the flowers before
the seeds had a chance to ripen and be disseminated.
He did exactly as he was told, only to find that the next
year he had even more dandelions. He again wrote to the De-
partment of Agriculture, which this time suggested another
chemical, but the results were no different. Three times in
three years he asked them for help. The fourth year he was
desperate. He reminded them that three times now he had
asked them for guidance in ridding his lawns of the unwanted
flowers, and three times he had done exactly as he was told;
yet, instead of the condition improving, it had steadily grown
worse. What was he to do now?
This time they had but a single suggestion — that he now
try to learn to live with them!
“O God, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I
cannot change; courage to change things I can; and wisdom to
know the difference.”
A. C. Frey
A Tranquil
13
Heart
is life to the
body
P ROV E R B S 14 : 3 0
The Bible’s ABC’s

A lthough things are not perfect
B ecause of trial or pain
C ontinue in thanksgiving
D o not begin to blame
E ’en though the times are hard
F ierce winds are bound to blow
G od is forever able
H old on to what you know
I magine life without him
J oy would cease to be
K eep thanking him for all things
L ove imparts to thee
M ove out of “Camp Complaining”
N o weapon that is known
O n earth can yield the power
P raise can do alone
Q uit looking at the future
R edeem the time at hand
S tart every day with worship
T o “thank” is a command
U ntil we meet our Savior
V ictorious by his grace
W e’ll run the race with courage
X alting God with praise
Y es, some days will be good
and yes some will be bad, but...
Z ion waits in glory — where none are ever sad!
13 : A tranquil heart is life to the body 257
Seven Wonders of the World
A group of students was asked to list what they thought

were the present Seven Wonders of the World. Though
there was some disagreement, the following received the
most votes:
1 Egypt’s Great Pyramids
2 Taj Mahal
3 Grand Canyon
4 Panama Canal
5 Empire State Building
6 St. Peter’s Basilica
7 China’s Great Wall
While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one quiet
student hadn’t turned in her paper yet, so she asked the girl if
she was having trouble with her list.
The girl replied, “Yes, a little. I couldn’t quite make up my
mind because there were so many.” The teacher said, “Well,
tell us what you have, and maybe we can help.”
The girl hesitated, then read, “I think the Seven Wonders of
the World are:
1 to see
2 to taste
3 to touch
4 to hear …”
She paused, and then added,
5 “to feel
6 to laugh
7 to love.”
The room was so silent you could have heard a pin drop.
Those things we overlook as simple and “ordinary” are truly
wondrous. This is a gentle reminder that the most precious
things in life cannot be bought. God gave them to us.
Being happy doesn’t mean everything’s perfect, it just
means you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections.
The Influence of a Gentle Hand
A stranger stopped for the night at a farmer’s house. He

noticed that a slender little girl, by her gentle ways,
had a great influence in the house. The next morning, when
the farmer wanted to drive the stranger to town, the horse
refused to go. They jerked it, whipped it and kicked it, but
it would not move. Then the little girl laid her hand on the
horse’s neck, spoke a few kind words to it, and stroked it.
Instantly the tense muscles relaxed and the stubbornness van-
ished. They had no more trouble with the pony that day.
Dwelling with the Rose

A Persian Fable says:
One day a wanderer found a lump of clay,
So redolent of sweet perfume
Its odors scented all the room.
“What art thou?” was his quick demand,
“Art thou some gem of Samarkand,
Or spikenard in this rude disguise,
Or other costly merchandise?”
“Nay; I am but a lump of clay.”
“Then whence this wondrous perfume, say?”
“Friend, if the secret I disclose,
I have been dwelling with the rose.”
Sweet parable! and will not those
Who love to dwell with Sharon’s rose,
Distill sweet odors all around,
Though low and mean themselves are found?
Dear Lord, may we to thee retreat,
Then shed abroad thy Fragrance sweet!
The Hallelujah Chorus
Y EARS ago in Cincinnati, Handel’s Messiah was rendered

by perhaps the greatest chorus on earth: Patti, then in her
prime, was the leading soprano; Whitney, the bass; Theodore
Toedt, the tenor; Carey, the alto; and this quartet was sup-
ported by more than four thousand voices.
Just before the Hallelujah Chorus a stillness fell over the vast
assembly. Suddenly the bass sang For he shall reign for ever and
ever; the tenor lifted it a little higher — For ever and ever, and
the alto lifted it still higher — For ever and ever; then Patti broke
in as though inspired — King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. As she
broke off, paused and lifted her eyes, a voice seemed to float
down from above as the voice of an angel flinging out through
the great hall the question, How long shall he reign? — and a
thousand sopranos in unison responded For ever and ever. Then
the four thousand voices of the chorus broke forth like the
shout of an angelic host, Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
What a glorious day for this poor old sin-ruined, storm-torn,
heart-broken, groping-in-the-dark world — when he shall take
his rightful throne and reign in all hearts and over all lives for
ever and ever!
God Thundereth
D R. J. R. Miller relates a story of some children alone dur-

ing a thunderstorm; each gave a favorite Scripture verse.
One of the children chose, The Lord of glory thundereth, and
when she was asked why she gave these words, she said,
“Once I heard a great noise when I thought I was alone in the
house, and I was so frightened that I screamed with terror. My
father was near, and he called, ‘Don’t be frightened, Margie; it
is only Father.’ Now when it thunders, and I begin to be afraid,
God seems to say to me, ‘Don’t be frightened, Margie, it’s
only Father,’ and all my fears vanish.”
Redeem the Time
“R EDEEM the time, because the days are evil.” How do you
view time?
There’s a familiar illustration that likens time to money. We
spend our money, and we spend our time. The only difference
is that we all have different amounts of money to spend, but
we all have the same amount of time. Yet each of us values
time differently, just as we each value money differently.
When you get change at a store do you count the coins or just
put them in your pocket because the change from a dollar is
not worth counting? When you have a few extra minutes, do
you spend them on something worthwhile, or is change back
from an hour not worth redeeming? How much is a few min-
utes worth, anyway?
Here are a few suggestions on how to value even small
amounts of time:
How much is a year worth?
Ask a student who failed a grade.
How much is a month worth?
Ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby.
How much is a week worth?
Ask the editor of a weekly newsmagazine.
How much is an hour worth?
Ask two lovers who are waiting to meet.
How much is a minute worth?
Ask a commuter who just missed his train.
How much is a second worth?
Ask a driver who just missed an accident.
How much is a hundredth of a second worth?
Ask an Olympic athlete who just missed the gold medal.
Don’t just miss the gold medal.
Redeem the time.
Walk circumspectly.
How You Look at Things
O NE day a father and his rich family took his son on a trip
to the country with the purpose of showing him how
poor some people can be. They spent a day and a night on the
farm of a very poor family.
When they got back from their trip the father asked his son,
“How did you like the trip?”
“Very much, Dad!”
“Did you see how poor people can be?” the father asked.
“Yeah!”
“And what did you learn?”
The son answered, “I saw that we have a dog at home, and
they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of
the garden, they have a creek that has no end. We have im-
ported lamps in the garden, they have stars. Our patio reaches
to the front yard, they have a whole horizon.” When the little
boy was finishing, his father was speechless.
His son added, “Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor
we are!”
Isn’t it true that it all depends on the way you look at things?
If you have love, friends, family, health, good humor and a
positive attitude toward life, you’ve got everything! You can’t
buy any of these things. You can have all the material posses-
sions you can imagine, but if you are poor of spirit, you have
nothing!
Gladness for a Space

If I had known what trouble you were bearing,
What griefs were in the silence of your face,
I would have been more gentle and more caring,
And tried to give you gladness for a space.
Of War and Roses
H E strode the length of the nursery walkway, inhaling the

heady scent. To an untrained eye, the rows of methodi-
cally labeled roses might look identical. But Monsieur Francis
Meilland knew better. As a rose breeder, he had dedicated his
life to these plants. He knew each one intimately.
Pausing, he reached out to rub a particularly glossy leaf, its
finely serrated edge curling slightly over his finger. “Ah, this
one … this one …” Monsieur Meilland sighed.
A masterpiece! Unlike anything he had ever grown before.
Of all his treasures, this plant produced the most heartbreak-
ingly beautiful blooms.
Monsieur Meilland was anxious to experiment, to de-
velop the rose further, and to give it an appropriate name.
But he was out of time. The year was 1939 and the threat of
war hovered over Western Europe. He could only hope to pre-
serve the rose from the terrible dangers on the horizon.
By June the following year, the German Army had occupied
northern France. Now the Nazis cut across to the coast, then
turned and moved toward Paris, never striking twice in the
same place. Waging “blitzkrieg,” or lightning war, they had
attacked first one town, then another, spreading defeat and
disaster everywhere.
Pressed for time, Monsieur Meilland took cuttings from his
beloved plant, still untested and still unnamed.
Methodically, he packaged and shipped them to rose aficio-
nados throughout the world. Would they get out of France?
Would they arrive at their destinations? More importantly,
would they survive? He could only hope, and pray.
One last plane left France just before the Nazis gained con-
trol of the airport. On board were the final rose cuttings, cush-
ioned in a diplomatic pouch, destined for the United States.
Four long years passed. Throughout Europe, shelling re-
sounded like a giant bell solemnly tolling for the dead. And
then it arrived: a letter from a rose grower in Pennsylvania
praising the beauty of Meilland’s discovery. It was ruffled.
Delicate. The petals were of cameo ivory and palest cream,
tipped with a tinge of pink.
His rose had survived.

But, for Monsieur Meilland, the crowning glory came later.
On the very day that Berlin fell and bells of freedom rang
across Europe, rose growers gathered far away, in sunny
California, at a ceremony to christen his splendid blossom. To
honor the occasion, white doves were set free to wing their
way across a sapphire sky.
And after so many years, the fragile rose that had survived a
war finally received its name:
“Peace.”
Carol McAdoo Rehme
Seeing with Blind Eyes
A blind woman sang One Sweetly Solemn Thought at a

recent service and we could feel the living presence of
God in her voice. After the service Mrs. McGuire and I drove
her to her home. “I am very happy in my religion: God has
put many beautiful things in the world,” she said. Then as we
helped her from the street to her cottage home, she casually
explained, “I have never had sight.”
She had never seen a star-lit sky, a rainbow, a zigzag light-
ning flash, the halo of mist around the crest of a mountain, a
million fishes splashing in a tropical river at sunrise. She had
never seen a baby, a smile, a magnolia tree in bloom, a wood-
ed hillside in autumn, a thick cloud, phosphorescence playing
across the ocean breakers at night, or a rainbow painted by
the setting sun across a canvas of dark clouds. Yet she spoke
of many beautiful things!
But she had heard the voice of God through the greetings of
friends, she had sensed the fragrance of the rosebud, tasted his
providence in the cool water, and felt his presence through her
fingertips as she studied her Braille New Testament. And the
Beauty of the world made her happy.
The Lesson of the Daffodils

S EV ER A L times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother,
you must come see the daffodils before they are over.”
I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna
to Lake Arrowhead. “I will come next Tuesday,” I promised,
a little reluctantly, on her third call.
Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised,
and so I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s
house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren, I said,
“Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the
clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you
and these children that I want to see badly enough to drive
another inch!”
My daughter smiled calmly, “We drive in this all the time,
Mother.” “Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it
clears — and then I’m heading for home!” I assured her. “I
was hoping you’d take me over to the garage to pick up my
car.” “How far will we have to drive?” “Just a few blocks,”
Carolyn said, “I’ll drive. I’m used to this.” After several min-
utes I had to ask, “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to
the garage!”
“We’re going to my garage the long way,” Carolyn smiled,
“by way of the daffodils.” “Carolyn,” I said sternly, “please
turn around.” “It’s all right, Mother. I promise you will never
forgive yourself if you miss this experience.”
After about twenty minutes we turned onto a small gravel
road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church I
saw a hand-lettered sign: “Daffodil Garden.”
We got out of the car and each took a child’s hand, and I
followed Carolyn down the path. Then we turned a corner of
the path, and I looked up and gasped.
Before me lay the most glorious sight. It looked as though
someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down
over the mountain peak and slopes.
The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns,
great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yel-
low, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow. Each different-
colored variety was planted as a group so that it swirled and
flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. Five acres
of flowers!
“But who has done this?” I asked Carolyn. “It’s just one
woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property.
That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame
house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that
glory.
We walked up to the house. On the patio we saw a poster:
“Answers to the Questions I Know You are Asking” was the
headline. The first answer was a simple one: “50,000 bulbs,”
it read. The second answer was, “One at a time, by one wom-
an. Two hands, two feet, and very little brain.” The third
answer was, “Began in 1958.”
There it was. The Daffodil Principle. For me that moment
was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman
whom I had never met, who, more than forty-five years
before, had begun one bulb at a time to bring her vision of
beauty and joy to an obscure mountain-top. By planting just
one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman
had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had
created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and
inspiration.
The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the great-
est principles of success: learning to move toward our goals
and desires one step at a time — often just one baby-step at a
time — learning to love the doing, learning to use the accu-
mulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with
small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can ac-
complish magnificent things. We can change the world.
“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What
might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful
goal forty-five years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb
at a time’ through all those years. Just think what I might
have been able to achieve!” My daughter summed up the
message of the day in her direct way.
“Start now,” she answered.
Too Much Comfort

P ROFESSOR Wieman of Chicago says that in college he had
a roommate who desired to improve his intellectual life,
so he procured a large comfortable chair that was thought to
be good for study. He got study slippers and a lounging jacket.
A book rest was fastened to the arm of the chair to hold the
book at the right angle for his eyes. He acquired a special
lamp, eye-shade, pencils, paper and revolving bookcase. He
would come into the room after the evening meal, take off
his coat and put on the jacket, take off his shoes and slip into
the slippers, adjust the lamp, put his book on the book rest,
recline in the comfortable chair with his eye-shade over his
eyes, and when everything was perfectly adjusted, he would
go to sleep.
Flowers Under the Snow
M ANY of us find life hard and full of pain. The world

uses us roughly. We suffer wrongs and injuries. Other
people’s clumsy feet tread upon our tender spirits. We cannot
avoid these things, but we should not allow harsh experiences
to deaden our sensibilities, or make us stoical or sour. The true
challenge of living is to keep our hearts sweet and gentle in
the hardest conditions and experiences.
If you remove the snow from a hillside in the late winter,
you will find sweet flowers growing there beneath the cold
drifts, unhurt by the storm and by the snowy blankets that
have covered them. So should we keep our hearts tender and
sensitive beneath life’s fiercest winter blasts and through long
years of suffering, even of injustice and wrong treatment.
That is true victorious living.
The Steady Old Clock

I have a little old farmhouse in the country — a place over
one hundred and fifty years old. We have some old things
around that house, including clocks. There’s something fasci-
nating about the ticking of a clock, especially in the quiet of
the night. One of those old clocks is in the dining room. One
day we had a violent hurricane. The great maples seemed
almost to bend double under the driving winds. The rain
beat upon the window-panes. The very beams of the house
seemed to creak.
But the old clock acted as if there were no storm at all. “Tick,
tock, tick, tock,” it said calmly. If the clock had been a modern
human being, it would have speeded up its tempo as if to cry
excitedly, “Isn’t it a terrible storm? What shall we do?” But the
clock was measuring time which is rooted in the center of the
stars. It was measuring decades, generations, eons, not merely
excitable little minutes.
A man who has cultivated the peace of God which passeth
all understanding does not get agitated by the little storms
of life. His life is rooted in something eternal, so he goes on
at his own private pace like the ticking of a clock during a
thunderstorm.
Just the Estate I Wanted

I Tis a fact that when our blessings seem few we often have
many more than we realize. There was a man who, wishing
to sell a small estate, sent for a realtor and asked him to write
an advertisement telling about the property. When the adver-
tisement was ready, the agent took it to the man and read it
to him. “Read that again,” said the owner. The agent did so. “I
have been looking for an estate like that all my life, and I did
not know that I owned it.”
So it is with our blessings. We have had them all along and
did not know it.
The Obstacle in our Path
O NCE upon a time a king placed a boulder on a busy road-

way. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone
would remove the huge rock. Some of the king’s wealthiest
merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around
it. Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads
clear, but none did anything about getting the big stone out
of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables.
On approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his bur-
den and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After
much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. As the peas-
ant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying
in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained
many gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the
gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the
roadway.
The peasant learned what many never understand:
Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve one’s
condition.
The Ministry of Pain
F ATHER Damien had for thirteen years been a missionary

to the lepers on Molokai. Finally the dread disease laid
hold on him.
One morning he spilled some boiling water on his foot.
But there was not the slightest pain. Then he knew he was
doomed. He knew that death had come to his body and little
by little would take possession. A hundred times better for
him if that boiling water had brought pain.
So with conscience. You have committed a certain wrong.
Does it hurt? Then be glad. You become hopeless only when
your soul gets past feeling.
God Holds the Reins
A wisp of memory from long ago comes in. I was a little

lad driving a great team of farm horses hitched to an
empty hay rack. Suddenly, from unaccustomed noises, per-
haps sensing too weak a hand upon the reins, they started on
a wild gallop down the sloping road, across a ravine. Every-
thing I had, tensed arms, pounding heart, appealing voice, was
strained in the attempt to restrain, to control, to guide them
across the narrow wooden bridge.
Does the reader chide me for remembering so trivial a
thing? But how can I forget, especially how a strong pair of
hands reached beyond my own (for I was not alone on that
lonely road, you see), grasping the reins, and a voice far more
authoritative than my own commanded the galloping horses,
and they obeyed. It was good to have Father drive when the
horses broke away.
When, in the life which we now live in this body and in
such a world, the wild horses begin to rear and plunge, it is
good that we are not alone, that we can whisper, “Father,
you drive.”
Lying on your Back
D URING Dr. Payson’s last illness a friend, coming into his

room, remarked sympathetically, “Well, Doctor, I am
sorry to see you lying here on your back.”
“Do you know why God puts us on our backs, at times?”`
said Dr. Payson. “No,” was the answer. “In order that we may
look upward.”
14
A Joyful
Heart
makes a
cheerful face
P ROV E R B S 15 :13
Secret of Happiness
S H E is 92 years old, petite and well poised. She is fully

dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with her hair
fashionably coifed, and her makeup perfectly applied, in
spite of the fact that she is legally blind.
Today she has moved to a nursing home. Her husband of 70
years recently passed away, making this move necessary.
After many hours of patient waiting in the lobby of the
nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was
ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I pro-
vided a visual description of her tiny room, including the
eyelet curtains that had been hung on her window.
“I love it,” she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-
old having just been presented with a new puppy.
“Mrs. Jones, you haven’t seen the room … just wait,” I said.
Then she spoke these words that I will never forget:
“That does not have anything to do with it,” she gently
replied. “Happiness is something you decide on ahead of
time. Whether I like my room or not does not depend on
how the furniture is arranged. It is how I arrange my mind. I
have already decided to love it.
“It is a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I
have a choice. I can spend the day in bed recounting the dif-
ficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work,
or I can get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do
work. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open, I will
focus on the new day and all of the happy memories I have
stored away … just for this time in my life. Old age is like
a bank account. You withdraw from what you have already
put in.”
She went on to say:
I believe that …
Our background and circumstances may have influenced
who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.
Life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent how
I respond to it. I remain in charge of my attitude.
No matter how good a friend is, they’re going to hurt you
14 : A joyful heart makes a cheerful face 273
every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.
Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want
them to doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they
have.
True friendship continues to grow, even over the longest
distance. The same goes for true love.
It’s taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.
You should always leave loved ones with loving words. It
may be the last time you see them.
You can keep going, long after you think you can’t.
We are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.
Either you control your attitude or it controls you.
Heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it
needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
Money is a lousy way of keeping score.
My best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have
the best time.
Sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you’re
down will be the ones to help you get back up.
Sometimes when I’m angry I have the right to be angry,
but that doesn’t give me the right to be cruel.
It isn’t always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes
you have to learn to forgive yourself.
No matter how badly your heart is broken, the world
doesn’t stop for your grief.
Just because two people argue, it doesn’t mean they don’t
love each other. And just because they don’t argue, it doesn’t
mean they do.
Two people can look at the exact same thing and see some-
thing totally different.
Your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people
who don’t even know you.
Credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human
being.
Even when you think you have no more to give, when a
friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.
Maturity has more to do with what types of experiences
you’ve had and what you’ve learned from them, and less to
do with how many birthdays you’ve celebrated.
Two Frogs in the Milk
O NCE upon a time two frogs that had been living in com-
fort and ease in a cool pond of water were accidentally
scooped up by a milkman in a bucket of water, which he
poured into his can in order to give his milk more volume
and thereby increase his revenue. The frogs were astonished
to find themselves in an unknown element, in which it was
not possible to support life, and they had to kick vigorously
in order to keep their heads above the milk. One of them,
disheartened by being shut up in the dark, said, “Let’s give
up and go to the bottom; it’s no use kicking any longer.” The
other said, “Oh no, let’s keep kicking as long as we can and
see what the outcome will be. Maybe things will change
soon.” So one frog gave it up and went to the bottom. The
other kept kicking, and when the milkman got to town and
opened his can, behold, the frog had kicked out a lump of
butter large enough to float him and he was sitting on it com-
fortably. Moral: Keep on striving!
Using the Wind
A small boy at a lakeside resort launched a little boat of

his own making one windy afternoon. The breeze
filled the sails immediately, but instead of carrying the small
craft on its course, capsized it and sent it straight to the bot-
tom. The owner of the sailboat looked sober for a moment,
then with the most philosophical composure remarked,
“That’s a good wind for kites,” and went to get his kite. The
little fellow’s pluck and good sense are worthy of imitation.
If you have failed in something you have attempted, the very
circumstances which caused your failure may be an advan-
tage when you try something else. Don’t sit down and sulk
because your boat has sunk. The very wind that capsized it
may carry your kite higher than you have dared to hope.
In the Bell Tower
A visitor to Amsterdam, wishing to hear the wonderful

music of the chimes of St. Nicholas, went up into the
tower of the church to hear it. There he found a man with
wooden gloves on his hands pounding on a keyboard. All he
could hear was the clanging of the keys when struck by the
wooden gloves, and the harsh, deafening noise of the bells
close over his head. He wondered why the people talked of
the marvelous chimes of St. Nicholas. To his ear there was
no music in them, nothing but terrible clatter and clanging.
Yet all the while there floated out over and beyond the city
the most entrancing music. Men in the fields paused in their
work to listen, and were made glad. People in their homes
and travelers on the highways were thrilled by the beautiful
bell tones which fell from the tower.
There are many lives which, to those that dwell close
beside them, seem to make no music; they pour out their
strength in hard toil; they are shut up in narrow spheres;
they dwell amid the noise and clatter of common tasks; they
think themselves that they are of no use, that no blessing
goes out from their life; they never dream that sweet music is
made anywhere in the world by their noisy hammering. But
out over the world, where the influence goes from their work
and character, lives are blessed, and weary ones hear, with
gladness, sweet comforting music.
Words of Wisdom
God didn’t promise days without pain,
laughter without sorrow, sun without rain,
But he did promise strength for the day,
comfort for the tears, and light for the way.
The Story of an Old Book
H E was a young man of 22 and about to ship over to

Europe for duty in World War II. Part of his last day in
Florida was spent in a used book store to buy something to
read on the ship across the Atlantic. His eyes spotted a tat-
tered copy of one of the classics. As he leafed through the old
book, he noticed it was full of copious notes in the margin.
Soon he was more caught up in the notes than in the book
itself. He quickly made his purchase and headed to his ship.
As the days of the transatlantic voyage passed, the young
soldier became more and more intrigued by the one who had
made the notes in his precious book. Inside the front cover,
he discovered the name and address of the former owner, a
girl by the name of Diane.
After disembarking he wrote a letter to the former owner
and received a reply. She was a young lady from New York
who had purchased the book for a college course in classical
literature.
For the next two years, they carried on a correspondence
about the classics and found their shared perceptions of the
books they read very stimulating.
After two years on the European front, the young soldier
was given a two-week furlough to visit his family in the
United States. He quickly wrote his friend in New York and
asked if he might meet her. She agreed.
“Where shall we meet?” he wrote. “In Grand Central Sta-
tion,” she responded. “How will I know you?” “I will meet
your train and I will be holding a single red rose.”
When the fateful day arrived, his anticipation knew no
bounds. As he walked rapidly through the station, he caught
sight of one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. She
was smartly dressed in a lovely blue dress. Instinctively he
turned to follow the attractive girl. Then he caught himself.
His body wanted to go after the pretty lady his eye had spot-
ted; his mind wanted to find the girl he had been writing to.
Finally, with great reluctance, he turned from his new
pursuit to try to find his correspondent. It was just then that
he spotted a woman holding a single red rose. She was not
at all what he expected. Middle-aged and wearing ill-fitting

clothes, she looked more like a poor washer-woman than the
girl whose scintillating mind he had come to love.
Hesitantly he approached the woman. “Excuse me, but
is your name Diane?” he queried. “No,” she answered. “I’m
sorry,” he stammered, “but I was supposed to meet a girl here
who would be holding a single red rose.”
The woman responded, “I am not quite sure what you are
talking about, but a young lady in a blue dress just gave me
this rose to hold. She said if a young soldier would approach
me about the rose, to tell him that she would be in the restau-
rant across the street.”
With buoyant spirits, he practically flew out of Grand Cen-
tral Station to meet the girl in the blue dress. Some eleven
months later, they were married and are still happily study-
ing the classics.
The attractive girl had so arranged the meeting to see if her
young soldier was interested in her looks or her mind.
“That’s All I Want”
I N his beautiful book, I Shall Not Want, Robert Ketchum tells

of a Sunday School teacher who asked her group of children
if anyone could quote the entire 23rd Psalm. A golden-haired
four-year-old girl was among those who raised their hands. A
bit skeptical, the teacher asked if she could really quote the
entire psalm. The little girl came to the front of the room,
faced the class, made a perky little bow, and said, “The LORD
is my shepherd, that’s all I want.” She bowed again and went
and sat down. That may well be the finest interpretation of
the 23rd Psalm ever heard.
Influence of Small Things
D ROP a pebble in the water, just a splash and it is gone,

But there’s half a hundred ripples, circling on and on and on —
Spreading, spreading, from the center, flowing on out to
the sea;
And there’s no way of telling, where the end is going to be.
Drop a pebble in the water, in a minute you forget,
But the little waves are flowing, and the ripples circling yet.
All the ripples flowing, flowing to a mighty wave have grown;
And you’ve disturbed a mighty river, just by dropping in a
stone.
Drop a word, unkind or careless, in a minute it is gone,

But there’s half a hundred ripples, circling on and on and on.
They keep spreading, spreading, spreading, from the
center as they go,
And there’s no way to stop them, once you’ve started
them to flow.
Drop a word, unkind and careless, in a minute you forget,
But the little waves are flowing, and the ripples flowing yet.
And perhaps in some sad heart, a mighty wave of tears
you’ve stirred,
And disturbed a life that’s happy, when you’ve dropped
an unkind word.
Drop a word of cheer and kindness, just a flash and it is gone,

But there’s half a hundred ripples, circling on and on and on,
Bearing hope and joy and comfort on each splashing,
dashing wave,
’Til you wouldn’t believe the blessing of the one kind word
you gave.
Drop a word of cheer and kindness, in a minute you forget,
but the gladness still is swelling, and the joy is circling yet.
And you’ve rolled a wave of comfort, whose sweet music
can be heard
Over the miles and miles of water, just by dropping
one kind word.
For Better Fuchsias

“Iought not to be surprised by anything at my time of life,”
said a well-known minister, “but one of my flock did
manage to take my breath away. I was preaching about the
Father’s tender wisdom in caring for us all. I illustrated my
point by saying that the Father knows which of us grows
best in sunlight and which of us must have shade. ‘You know
you plant roses in the sunshine,’ I said, ‘and heliotrope and
geraniums; but if you want your fuchsias to grow they must
be kept in a shady nook.’
“After the sermon, which I hoped would be a comforting
one, a woman came up to me, her face glowing with pleasure
that was evidently deep and true. ‘Oh, Dr.—, I am so grateful
for that sermon,’ she said, clasping my hand and shaking it
warmly. My heart glowed for a moment, while I wondered
what tender place in her heart and life I had touched. Only
for a moment, though. ‘Yes,’ she went on fervently, ‘I never
knew before what was the matter with my fuchsias.’”
Happiness
Remember the five simple rules to be happy:
1 Free your heart from hatred.
2 Free your mind from worries.
3 Live simply.
4 Expect less.
5 Give more.
Choosing Happiness
I was a rainy, humid day: the mother of all bad hair days.
T
I was riding on a bus downtown to go to work. The win-
dows on the bus were covered in condensation so thick you
couldn’t see outside. Everyone was wilting. I was sitting next
to a man in a business suit and didn’t pay much attention
until we both got off at the same stop and walked to the same
newsstand to get a morning paper.
The man running the stand was obviously having a bad
day. He was rude, abrupt and unsmiling as we purchased our
papers, which served only to add more gloom to my day. The
businessman caught my eye and smiled. He then proceeded to
smile brightly, thank the newsstand proprietor for the paper
and for being open on such a morning to make sure we were
able to get our papers. In short, he expressed his appreciation
for something most of us would take for granted.
The man running the newsstand responded only with a
grunt and a sour expression. The businessman then pleasantly
wished him a good day. As we turned away, I asked this
man why he had continued to be pleasant to the newsman
when he obviously didn’t care about and didn’t respond to his
expression of appreciation and friendliness. The businessman
grinned at me and said, “Why would I let someone else con-
trol what I say and what I feel or what kind of day I’m going
to have?”
We then separated to go to our respective work places. To
this day, I don’t know who that businessman was, where he
worked, or anything else about him. I never saw him again,
even though I looked for him on the bus on other days. He
appeared briefly in my life and disappeared just as quickly. I
don’t even remember what he looked like. But I’ve never for-
gotten the words he said or the way his smile seemed like a
shaft of sunlight on a gloomy day. That was a good 25 years
ago, but the impact it had on my life has endured. I never had
a chance to thank him personally, but the way I choose to
look at life as a result of those words is his legacy to me and
my thanks to him.
Our interaction with someone we encounter can impact at
least the next five people that person encounters. A smile

and words of simple appreciation multiply themselves geo-
metrically. We cannot control people and situations that
come to us, but we can always control our response to them.
And in such positive decisions lie our control and personal
power to make a positive difference. It’s something anyone
and everyone can do. It is a real legacy that can impact both
the present and the future.
A Vision of the Heart
A story is told by Mr. Stuart Robertson in his delightful

book of Talks to Children. A little girl was sitting on her
mother’s knees. She was very fond of her mother. She called
her “my very own mother,” and like one who was rejoic-
ing over precious treasures, she touched the features of her
mother’s face with her little fingers — her mother’s lips, her
eyes, her cheeks, her hair. After a while she said, “Mummy,
can I see your heart?” The mother said, “I don’t know about
that, but you can look into my eyes, and see if you can see
anything.” The child climbed up and peered in; and then she
cried out gleefully, “I can see your heart, Mummy, and there
is a wee girl in there, and it’s me!”
Invisible Brains
A skeptical young man confronted an old Quaker with

the statement that he did not believe the Bible. The
Quaker said: “Dost thou believe in France?” “Yes; though I
have not seen it, I have seen others that have. Besides, there
is plenty of corroborative proof that such a country exists.”
“Then thee will not believe anything thee or others have not
seen?” “No, to be sure, I won’t.” “Did thee ever see thine own
brains?” “No.” “Ever see anybody that did?” “No.” “Does thee
believe thee has any?”
The Gentian Flower
O N E Christmas someone sent Mr. Whittier a gentian

flower pressed between two panes of glass. Seen from
one side, it appeared only a blurred mass of something with-
out beauty. But seen from the other side of the glass, the
exquisite beauty of the flower appeared in all its delicate
loveliness. Whether the gift was lovely or not depended on
the side from which one viewed it. The poet hung the gift in
the window, facing his room. Those who passed by outside
marked only a gray disk of clouded glass, seeing no beauty;
but the poet, sitting within, looked at the token and saw out-
lined against the winter sky all the glory of the flower. He
then penned this lovely poem:
They cannot from their outlook see
the perfect grace it hath for me;
For there the flower, whose fringes through
the frosty breath of autumn blew,
Turns from without its face of bloom
to the warm tropic of my room,
As fair as when beside its brook
the hue of bending skies it took.
But deeper meanings come to me,
my half-immortal flower, from thee!
Man judges from a partial view,
none ever yet his brother knew;
The Eternal Eye that sees the whole
may better read the darkened soul,
And find, to outward sense denied,
the flower upon its inmost side.
Too often we look upon the blurred side of actions — yes,
of people, too. We do not see the loveliness on the other
side. We are all continually misinterpreting others. There
is a flower side in many an act which we condemn because
we see only the blurred side. Let us train ourselves to believe
always the best of people and of actions, and find some
beauty in everything.
J. R. Miller
The Oyster
There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell
Who found that some sand
Had got into his shell.
It was only a grain
But it gave him great pain
For oysters have feelings
Although they’re so plain.
Now, did he berate
The harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state?
Did he curse at the government
Cry for election
And claim that the sea should
Have given him protection?
“No,” he said to himself
As he lay on a shell
“Since I cannot remove it
I shall try to improve it.”
Now the years have rolled around
As the years always do
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny — stew.
And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.
Now the tale has a moral
For isn’t it grand
What an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand?
What couldn’t we do
If we’d only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin?
How delightful
15
is a
Timely
Word
P ROV E R B S 15 : 2 3
Angels
O NE day I saw a little girl sitting by herself in the park.

Everyone passed her by and never even stopped to see
why she looked so sad! She was dressed in a worn pink dress,
barefoot and dirty; she just sat and silently watched the people
go by.
The next day I decided to go back to the park to see if the
little girl would be there again.
Yes! Sure enough she was there, in the very same spot
where she had been before … and with the same sad look in
her eyes.
I decided to walk over to meet the little girl. A park full of
strangers is not a place for young children to play alone.
As I got closer I could see that the little girl’s back was some-
how deformed. I figured that that was the reason people just
passed her by and made no effort to speak to her. Deformities
are unwelcome in our society, and most people avoid assisting
someone who is different.
As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back more
clearly. She was grotesquely shaped in a humped-over form.
The little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my intent
stare.
I smiled to let her know it was okay — I was there to help
and to talk.
I sat down beside her and opened with a simple, “Hello!”
The little girl acted shocked! She stared into my eyes and
finally stammered, “Hi.” I smiled and she shyly smiled back.
Well, we talked more and I asked the girl why she was so
sad.
The little girl looked at me and said, “Because I’m different.”
I immediately said, “That you are!” and smiled.
The little girl looked even sadder and said, “I know.”
“Little girl,” I said, “you remind me of an angel, sweet and
innocent.”
She smiled, slowly got to her feet and said, “Really?”
“Yes, like a little guardian angel sent to watch over all those
people walking by.”
She nodded and smiled. Then she opened the back of her
15 : How delightful is a timely word 287
pink dress and allowed her wings to spread. She said, “I am. I
am your guardian angel,” with a twinkle in her eye.
I was speechless — certain that I was seeing things.
She said, “For once, you thought of someone other than
yourself. My job here is now done.”
I got to my feet and said, “Wait, why did no one else stop
to help an angel?”
She looked at me, smiled, and said, “You are the only one
that could see me.” And then she disappeared.
Whistle the Best You Can
A minister tells that one day he came out of a hotel whis-

tling quite low. A little boy playing in the yard heard
him, and said, “Is that the best you can whistle?”
“No,” said the minister. “Can you do better?”
The boy said he could, and the minister said, “Well, let’s hear
you.”
The little fellow began to whistle, and then insisted that the
minister should try again. He did so, and the boy acknowl-
edged that it was good whistling. As the minister walked
away, the little fellow said, “Well, if you can whistle better,
what were you whistling like that for?”
Indeed, why would you not do your best in whatever you
do? The world has plenty of poor, slipshod, third-class work
done by people who could do better if they would. Let every-
one try to do his best, whether in whistling, singing, working
or playing.
Building Prison Walls
A T one time many convicts were employed in build-

ing high walls around the prison grounds of Portland.
Armed soldiers posted above the men watched them at their
work. Every brick laid rendered their escape more impossible,
and yet they themselves were laying them. So each sin com-
mitted makes it harder to refrain from further sin, more dif-
ficult to turn back.
She Must be Jesus’ Mother
O N a recent Sunday, Henry Burnett was a guest in the home

of a friend whose young daughter had just come in from
her first Sunday School lesson. Seeing the child’s enthusiasm,
Mr. Burnett asked, “What did you do at Sunday School this
morning?” “We sang a song,” she said, “in a big room where
a lady talked.” “Who was she?” asked Mr. Burnett. “I don’t
know her name,” she said, “but she must be the mother of
Jesus, for she talked about him all the time.” A little child leads
us here. The teacher’s name meant little or nothing to the girl,
but what she said about Jesus so impressed her that she saw a
close kinship between the teacher and Jesus.
The “Arbitrary” Commandments
A N old-fashioned minister was once driving a carriage

along a country road with one of his young parishioners
who, like many young men, liked to argue about religion. The
wise old minister listened to him without much comment as
he expounded his views. Finally the minister said bluntly, “So
you object to the Ten Commandments?”
“N-No,” stammered the young man, “not their purpose and
object, but a fellow hates to have ‘shall’ and ‘shan’t’ flung in
his face every minute! They sound so arbitrary!”
The old minister clucked to his horse and hid an involuntary
sly smile as he made some minor adjustments to the reins. A
few minutes later the boy suddenly caught hold of his arm.
“You’ve taken the wrong turn. That guidepost said, ‘This
way to Holden’!”
“Oh, did it?” the minister replied carelessly. “Well, it might
be a better road, but I hate to be told to go this way and that
by an arbitrary old signpost!”
An embarrassed laugh from his red-faced traveling compan-
ion told the old man that his shot had struck home. They were
soon heading the other way and following the directions of
the “arbitrary” signpost.
Salt Creates Thirst
A T a missionary meeting some young people were dis-

cussing the text, “Ye are the salt of the earth.” One
suggestion after another was made as to the meaning of “salt”
in the verse. “Salt imparts a desirable flavor,” said one. “Salt
preserves from decay,” another suggested. At last a Chinese
Christian girl spoke up. “Salt creates thirst,” she said. There
was a sudden hush in the room. Everyone was thinking,
“Have I ever made anyone thirsty for the Lord Jesus Christ?”
The Sandpiper
S HE was six years old when I first met her on the beach
near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three
or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me.
She was building a sandcastle and looked up at me, her eyes
as blue as the sea.
“Hello,” she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother
with a small child.
“I’m building,” she said.
“I see that. What is it?” I asked, not really caring.
“Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of sand.”
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A
sandpiper glided by.
“That’s a joy,” the child said.
“It’s a what?”
“It’s a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.”
The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I mut-
tered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on.
I was depressed, my life seemed completely out of balance.
“What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up.
“Robert,” I answered. “I’m Robert Peterson.”
“Mine’s Wendy … I’m six.” “Hi, Wendy.” She giggled. “You’re
funny,” she said.
In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her
musical giggle followed me.
“Come again, Mr. P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy
day.”
After a few days of dealing with a group of unruly Boy
Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother, I needed an-
other trip to the beach. The sun was shining one morning as
I finished washing dishes. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself,
gathering up my coat.
The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The
breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the
serenity I needed.
“Hello, Mr. P,” she said. “Do you want to play?”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, with a twinge of
annoyance.
“I don’t know, you say.”

“How about charades?” I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what
that is.”
“Then let’s just walk.”
Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.
“Where do you live?” I asked.
“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange, I thought, in winter.
“Where do you go to school?” “I don’t go to school. Mama
says we’re on vacation.”
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but
my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy
said it had been a happy day.
Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near
panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw
her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her
child at home.
“Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Wendy caught
up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.” She seemed unusually
pale and out of breath.
“Why?” she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” and
thought, my goodness, why was I saying this to a little child?
“Oh,” she said quietly, “then this is a bad day.”
“Yes,” I said, “and yesterday and the day before and — oh, go
away!”
“Did it hurt?” she inquired.
“Did what hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself.
“When she died?”
“Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped
up in myself. I angrily strode away.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach,
Wendy wasn’t there.
Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed
her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at
the door. A drawn-looking young woman with honey-colored
hair opened the door.
“Hello,” I said, “I’m Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl

today and wondered where she was.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you
so much. I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a
nuisance, please, accept my apologies.”
“Not at all — she’s a delightful child,” I said, suddenly real-
izing that I meant what I had just said.
“Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia.
Maybe she didn’t tell you.”
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.
“She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn’t
say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what
she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined
rapidly …” Her voice faltered. “She left something for you … if
only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?”
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to
this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope
with “MR. P” printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a
drawing in bright crayon hues — a yellow beach, a blue sea,
and a brown bird.
Underneath was carefully printed: A Sandpiper to bring
you joy.
Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost for-
gotten how to love opened wide. I took Wendy’s mother in my
arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over
and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is
framed now and hangs in my study. Six words — one for each
year of her life — that speak to me of harmony, courage, and
undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and
hair the color of sand — who taught me the gift of love.
Note: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It hap-
pened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever.
It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to en-
joy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human
beings is loving oneself less. Life is so complicated, the hustle and
bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is
truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.
Submitted by Jenna Plew

16
The LORD …
hears the
Prayer
of the
righteous
P ROV E R B S 15 : 2 9
The Lord’s Prayer

I cannot say …
“Our” if I live only for myself.
“Father” if I do not endeavor each day to act like his child.
“Who art in heaven” if I am laying up no treasure there.
“Hallowed be thy name” if I am not striving for holiness.
“Thy Kingdom come” if I am not doing all in my power to
hasten that wonderful event.
“Thy will be done” if I am disobedient to his Word.
“On earth as it is in heaven” if I do not serve him here and
now.
“Give us this day our daily bread” if I am dishonest or am

seeking things by subterfuge.
“Forgive us our debts” if I harbor a grudge against anyone.
“Lead us not into temptation” if I deliberately place myself
in its path.
“Deliver us from evil” if I do not put on the whole armor

of God.
“Thine is the kingdom” if I do not give the King the loyalty

due him from a faithful subject.
“The power” if I fear what men may do.
“The glory” if I’m seeking honor only for myself, and
“Forever” if the horizon of my life is completely bounded
by time.
16 : The LORD … hears the prayer of the righteous 297
Are You Too Busy?

A S you got up this morning, I watched you, and hoped
you would talk to me, even if it was just a few words,
asking my opinion or thanking me for something good that
happened in your life yesterday. But I noticed you were too
busy, trying to find the right outfit to wear.
When you ran around the house getting ready, I knew
there would be a few minutes for you to stop and say hello,
but you were too busy. At one point you had to wait fifteen
minutes with nothing to do except sit in a chair. Then I saw
you spring to your feet. I thought you wanted to talk to me
but you ran to the phone and called a friend to get the latest
gossip instead. I watched patiently all day long. With all your
activities I guess you were too busy to say anything to me.
I noticed that before lunch you looked around, maybe you
felt embarrassed to talk to me, that is why you didn’t bow
your head. You glanced three or four tables over and you
noticed some of your friends talking to me briefly before
they ate, but you didn’t. That’s okay. There is still more time
left, and I hope that you will talk to me yet.
You went home and it seems as if you had lots of things to
do. After a few of them were done, you turned on the TV. I
don’t know if you like TV or not, just about anything goes
there and you spend a lot of time each day in front of it not
thinking about anything, just enjoying the show. I waited
patiently again as you watched the TV and ate your meal,
but again you didn’t talk to me.
At bedtime, I guess you felt too tired. After you said good
night to your family you plopped into bed and fell asleep in
no time. That’s okay, because you may not realize that I am
always there for you. I’ve got patience, more than you will
ever know. I even want to teach you how to be patient with
others as well.
I love you so much that I wait every day for a nod, a prayer
or a thought, a thankful place in your heart. It is hard to have
a one-sided conversation.
Well, you are getting up once again. Once again I will wait,
with nothing but love for you, hoping that today you will
give me some time. Have a nice day!
Your Creator, GOD
Just PUSH!
A man was sleeping at night in his cabin when suddenly

his room filled with light, and God appeared. The LORD
told the man he had work for him to do, and showed him a
large rock in front of his cabin.
The LORD explained that the man was to push against
the rock with all his might. So this the man did, day after
day. For many years he toiled from sunup to sundown, his
shoulders set squarely against the cold, massive surface of
the unmoving rock, pushing with all of his might. Each night
the man returned to his cabin sore and worn out, feeling that
his whole day had been spent in vain.
Since the man was showing discouragement, the Adver-
sary (Satan) decided to enter the picture by placing thoughts
into the weary mind: “You have been pushing against that
rock for a long time, and it hasn’t moved.”
These thoughts discouraged and disheartened the man,
giving him the impression that the task was impossible
and that he was a failure. “Why kill myself over this?” he
thought. “I’ll just put in my time, giving only just the mini-
mum effort, and that will be good enough.”
And that is what he planned to do, but he decided to make it
a matter of prayer and take his troubled thoughts to the LORD.
“LORD,” he said, “I have labored long and hard in your service,
putting all my strength to do that which you have asked. Yet,
after all this time, I have not even budged that rock by half a
millimeter. What is wrong? Why am I failing?”
The LORD responded compassionately, “My son, when I
asked you to serve me and you accepted, I told you that your
task was to push against the rock with all of your strength,
which you have done. Never once did I mention to you that I
expected you to move it. Your task was to push.
“And now you come to me with your strength spent, think-
ing that you have failed. But, is that really so? Look at your-
self. Your arms are strong and muscled, your back sinewy
and brown, your hands are callused from constant pressure,
your legs have become massive and hard. Through opposi-
tion you have grown much, and your abilities now surpass
that which you used to have. Yet you haven’t moved the rock.
But your calling was to be obedient and to exercise your faith
and trust in my wisdom. This you have done. Now, my son,
I will move the rock.”
At times, when we hear a word from God, we tend to use
our own intellect to decipher what he wants, when actually
what God wants is just simple obedience and faith in him.
By all means, exercise the faith that moves mountains, but
know that it is still God who moves mountains.
When everything seems to go wrong
just P.U.S.H.!
When the job gets you down
just P.U.S.H.!
When people don’t react the way you think they should
just P.U.S.H.!
When your money is gone and the bills are due
just P.U.S.H.!
When people just don’t understand you
just P ray
U ntil
S omething
H appens !
Small Results
T HERE is a story about a commercial traveler who pre-

sented himself before his chief after finishing his round.
Taking the small batch of orders in his hand, the manager
looked at the man and said, “And is this all you’ve done?” In
reply the man looked steadily at his employer and said, “No,
sir, it isn’t all I’ve done, but I’m afraid it is all I can show.” In
our work for God it is often when we toil hardest that we can
show the least tangible result. But if there has been the ear-
nest endeavor to serve Christ, we may be sure that he knows
all about it, and will reward us accordingly.
What if God …
Couldn’t take the time to bless us today because we couldn’t
take the time to thank him yesterday?
Decided to stop leading us tomorrow because we did not
follow him today?
Stopped allowing us to see another flower bloom because we
grumbled when God sent the rain?
Didn’t walk with us today because we failed to recognize it
as his day?
Took away the Bible tomorrow because we would not read it
today?
Took away his message because we failed to listen to his
messenger?
Allowed the door to our Bible study room to be closed because
we did not open the door of our heart?
Stopped loving and caring for us because we failed to love and
care for others?
Would not hear us today because we would not listen to him
yesterday?
Answered our prayers the way we answer his call for
service?
Met our needs the way we give him our lives?
O Lord, help us to be thankful that you have “not dealt

with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our
iniquities.”—Psalm 103:10
I Asked the LORD to Bless You

I asked the LORD to bless you
As I prayed for you today,
To guide you and protect you
As you go along your way.
His love is always with you,
His promises are true,
And when we give him all our cares,
You know he will see us through.
So when the road you’re traveling on
Seems difficult at best,
Just remember I’m here praying
And God will do the rest.
He Who Never Sleeps
B ISHOP Quale had a sense of humor concerning himself.

He told humorously of a time when he sat up late in his
study worrying over many things. He said that finally the
Lord came to him and said, “Quale, you go to bed; I’ll sit up
the rest of the night.”
Safely on Your Knees
S OME years ago an eminent preacher was climbing an alpine

summit with two guides. After much labor the top was
reached, and forgetting the gale that was blowing, the preach-
er stood up to enjoy the view. Instantly the guide called to him
and pulled him down, saying, “On your knees; you are not
safe except on your knees.” Even at the summit of Christian
experience and privilege, we are not safe except on our knees.
Prayer is as needful on the mountain tops as in the valleys.
Answer to Prayer
O N a Saturday night several weeks ago, a certain pastor was

working late and decided to call his wife before he left for
home. It was about 10:00 P.M., but his wife didn’t answer the
phone. The pastor let it ring many times. He thought it was
odd that she didn’t answer, but decided to wrap up a few
things and try again in a few minutes. When he tried again she
answered right away. He asked her why she hadn’t answered
before, and she said that the phone hadn’t rung at their house.
They brushed it off as a fluke and went on their merry ways.
The following Monday, the pastor received a call at the
church office, on the phone that he’d used that Saturday night.
The caller wanted to know why the pastor had called on Sat-
urday night. The pastor couldn’t figure out what the man was
talking about. Then the man said, “The phone rang and rang,
but I didn’t answer.” The pastor remembered the mishap and
apologized for disturbing him, explaining that he’d intended
to call his wife. The man said, “That’s okay. Let me tell you
my story. You see, I was planning to commit suicide on Sat-
urday night, but before I did, I prayed, ‘God, if you’re there,
and you don’t want me to do this, give me a sign now.’ At
that point my phone started to ring. I looked at the caller ID,
and it said, ‘Almighty God.’ I was afraid to answer!”
The reason why it showed on the man’s caller ID that the
call came from “Almighty God” is because the church that
the pastor serves is called Almighty God Tabernacle!
I Asked God …
for a flower,
He gave me a garden.
for a tree,
He gave me a forest.
for a river,
He gave me an ocean.
for a friend,
He gave me you.
“I Saw the Pilot Smile”
R OBERT Louis Stevenson told of an experience that once

happened to his grandfather. He was on a vessel that was
caught by a terrific storm and was carried irresistibly toward a
rocky shore where complete destruction was imminent. When
the storm and danger were at their height, he crept up on deck
to look around and face the worst. He saw the pilot lashed to
the wheel, with all his might and nerve holding the vessel off
the rocks and steering it inch by inch into safer water. While
he stood watching, the pilot looked up at him and smiled. It
was little enough, but it completely reassured him. He went
back to his room below with new confidence, saying to him-
self, “We shall come through; I saw the pilot smile!”
If we could only in some way catch sight of a smile on the
face of the great Pilot in the strange rough sea in which we
are sailing, we too could do our work and carry our burdens
with confidence and with joy.
The Marble Doesn’t Matter Any More
O NE day a lady was giving her little nephew some lessons.

He was generally a good, attentive child, but on this occa-
sion he could not fix his mind on his work. Suddenly he said,
“Auntie, may I kneel down and ask God to help me find my
marble?” His aunt gave her consent, so the boy knelt by his
chair, closed his eyes, and prayed silently. Then he arose and
went on with his lessons contentedly. Next day, almost afraid
of asking the question, lest the child had not found his toy and
so might lose his simple faith, the lady said to him, “Well, dear,
have you found your marble?” “No, Auntie,” was the reply,
“but God has made me not want to.”
God does not always answer our prayers in the way we
wish or expect; but if we are sincere in our appeal to him, he
will take from us what is contrary to his will and give us faith
to leave all in his holy will.
“A Good Run”
B ENNIE Locke, an engine driver who has done fifty-seven

years of service on the Lackawanna Railroad and has
never received a demerit mark from his superiors, had the
habit of removing his cap when he entered his engine and
uttering a prayer for God’s protection on each day’s run. He
tells the following story: “Number Six was twenty-five min-
utes late out of Scranton one day, and I said my little prayer
as usual when I stepped into the cab. After I had asked for the
safety of our train, I said, ‘Lord, help me bring her in on time.’
It was a stiff climb up the Pocono Mountains for the first part
of the trip, and it never seems so steep as when you are late.
I couldn’t gain a second on the way up, but after we dipped
over the summit things began to break just right for me. It was
a beautiful day, with the air perfectly clear, and we almost
flew down the mountain. I just held her steady and let her go.
At last the old train shed at Hoboken loomed ahead, and as we
pulled into the station I looked at my watch and we were just
on the dot. As I stood wiping the sweat from my face, there
was a tap of a cane on the outside of my cab and looking out I
saw the president of the rail line, all smiles, and he said to me,
‘A good run, sir! A very good run!’ That meant more to me
than anything. And, brother, when I make my last run, and
pull into the Great Terminal, if I can just hear him say, ‘A good
run, sir! A very good run,’ the toil and the struggle down here
won’t matter at all.”
Count Your Blessings

Life is shaded, through and through,
Mostly by man’s point of view.
Count your troubles — you’ll be sad.
Count your blessings — you’ll be glad!
Pulling the Great Ship Closer
I have often watched giant ocean-going vessels nudge them-

selves into a slip. But they are too large, too clumsy, and
too powerful to dock themselves directly to the pier. A man
aboard the vessel throws a line to the man on the shore. This
latter takes the liner’s hawser and fastens it to the cleat on the
pier. Then the liner’s engines begin to pull on the hawser; but
it is not the pier that is pulled to the ship, but the ship is pulled
closer and closer to the pier. So, too, prayer is not intended to
bring God closer to us, but rather us closer to God.
A. C. Frey
Sand in the Shoes
N OT long ago I read about a man who had walked all the
way from San Francisco to New York. In recounting his
experiences, he said that the hardest part of the journey was
not in climbing the Rockies, high and hard though they were.
It was not the long, hot trudge over the desert, nor the crossing
of swollen streams and rivers. The thing that almost defeated
him was the sand in his shoes.
The enemies that almost overcome us, almost defeat us, are
not the external hardships through which we have to fight
our way, but little things, like grains of sand, that irritate and
distress us. Our success or our failure is hardly ever deter-
mined by the circumstances of life, but by the spirit in which
we face them. All of us will encounter rough places in our
journey. There are hills of difficulty to be climbed; hot des-
erts of disappointment to be crossed; rivers of opposition to
overcome. We shall make the journey successfully if we have
the right attitude and the right spirit. If we can keep the sand
out of our shoes, we shall walk triumphantly.
The Perfect Mistake
M Y mother’s father worked as a carpenter. On one par-

ticular day, he was building some crates for the clothes
his church was sending to an orphanage in China.
On his way home, he reached into his shirt pocket to find
his glasses, but they were gone. When he mentally replayed
his earlier actions, he realized what had happened; the glass-
es had slipped out of his pocket unnoticed and fallen into one
of the crates, which he had nailed shut.
His brand new glasses were heading for China!
The Great Depression was at its height and Grandpa had
six children. He had spent $20 for those glasses that very
morning. He was upset by the thought of having to buy
another pair. “It’s not fair,” he told God as he drove home in
frustration. “I’ve been very faithful in giving of my time and
money to your work, and now this.”
Months later, the director of the orphanage was on furlough
in the United States. He wanted to visit all the churches that
supported him in China, so he came to speak one Sunday at
my grandfather’s small church in Chicago.
The missionary began by thanking the people for their
faithfulness in supporting the orphanage. “But most of all,”
he said, “I must thank you for the glasses you sent last year.
You see, the Communists had just swept through the
orphanage, destroying everything, including my glasses.
“I was desperate. Even if I had the money, there was simply
no way of replacing those glasses. Along with not being able
to see well, I experienced headaches every day, so my co-
workers and I were much in prayer about this.
“Then your crates arrived. When my staff removed the cov-
ers, they found a pair of glasses lying on top.” The mission-
ary paused long enough to let his words sink in.
Then, still gripped with the wonder of it all, he continued:
“Folks, when I tried on the glasses, it was as though they had
been custom-made just for me! I want to thank you for being
a part of that.”
The people listened, happy for the miraculous glasses. But
the missionary surely must have confused their church with
another, they thought. There were no glasses on their list of

items to be sent overseas.
But sitting quietly in the back, with tears streaming down
his face, an ordinary carpenter realized the Master Carpenter
had used him in an extraordinary way.
Metamorphosis
I Nthe science of biology, there is a life-process known as

metamorphosis, in which an insect passes through three
different stages of development. From the egg it passes first
into the larval stage of the worm or caterpillar; from this it
enters the pupal stage of the cocoon or chrysalis; and from
this into the final, the adult or imago state of the moth or but-
terfly.
A caterpillar is an “earth-bound” creature; it is confined to
the solid earth beneath it, for it has no wings! But God has
decreed that this caterpillar need not always be such; it may
have a higher, a nobler existence. To attain this, it must be
willing to renounce its caterpillar existence, and climbing
high, take steps to cut itself off from the world, and the world
from itself. It does this by building its cocoon or chrysalis.
Eventually it will emerge from the cocoon, an “air-borne”
creature having wings — a beautiful moth or butterfly! It
should be noted that the caterpillar has “teeth” — mandibles
by which it tears, bites, eats its food — the green leaves. But
a butterfly has no mandibles, but a tube that it uses to extract
from flowers the sweet nectar.
This is an analogy. The justified creature may aspire in
response to the “call” to the higher life; and by way of a con-
secration unto death, cut himself off from the world, and the
world from himself. A change takes place through this spirit-
begettal. If faithful in this “development” he continues unto
the actual death of the old creature. He finally “emerges,” no
longer a human being, but a spirit being on the divine plane
of existence. No longer will he feed upon the food natural
to mortal humans, but upon the “ambrosia” — the “nectar of
the gods.” He will be immortal.
A. C. Frey
When in need, please use the following

Emergency Phone Numbers
When in sorrow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 14
When men fail you . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 27
If you want to be fruitful. . . . . . . . . . . . John 15
When you have sinned . . . . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 51
When you worry. . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 6:19-34
When you are in danger . . . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 91
When God seems far away . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 139
When your faith needs stirring . . . . . . . . Hebrews 11
When you are lonely and fearful . . . . . . . Psalm 23
When you grow bitter and critical. . . . . . . I Corinthians 13
For Paul’s secret to happiness . . . . . . . Colossians 3:12-17
To understand the love of Christ . . . . . II Corinthians 5:14-19
When you feel down and out . . . . . . . . . Romans 8:31
When you want peace and rest . . . . . . Matthew 11:25-30
When the world seems bigger than God . . . . . . Psalm 90
When you want Christian assurance . . . . . . Romans 8
When you leave home for labor or travel . . . . . . Psalm 121
When your prayers grow narrow or selfish . . . . Psalm 67
When you need courage . . . . . . . . . . . . Joshua 1
For how to get along with fellow men . . . . . . . Romans 12
When you think of investments and return . . . . . Mark 10
If you are depressed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 27
If your pocketbook is empty . . . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 37
If you are losing confidence in people . . . . I Corinthians 13
If people seem unkind . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 15
If discouraged about your work . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 126
Alternate Numbers
For dealing with fear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 34:7
For security . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 121:3
For assurance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 8:35
For reassurance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Psalm 145:18
All lines to Heaven are open 24 hours a day!
Feed your faith, and doubt will starve to death!
Remember: God answers all knee mail!
The Comfort of a Listening Ear
T HE world hungers for sympathy — compassion. Often

we can do nothing but sympathize — suffer with the
distressed — but, oh, how it helps! A rural pastor relates this
experience: “A poor mother on a mountain farm met my pas-
toral visit by bursting into tears, saying, ‘Oh, somehow I just
knew you would come today. I have so many troubles and
problems that I want you to help me with!’ Then she told me
things that were beyond my wisdom to solve, and how just
a little more of the dull burden would mean insanity. I was
alarmed at the fool I must appear, for I did not know what
to say. At length she surprised me by saying, ‘You have set-
tled my problems so nicely. You have given me just the help
I needed!’ Then I knew it was sympathy, not wisdom, which
she needed, for I hadn’t solved a single problem.”
A.S.A.P.
There’s work to do, deadlines to meet,
You’ve got no time to spare;
But as you hurry and scurry —
A.S.A.P. — Always Say A Prayer.
In the midst of family chaos,

“Quality time” is rare.
Do your best; let God do the rest —
It may seem like your worries

Are more than you can bear.
Slow down and take a breather —
God knows how stressful life is;

He wants to ease our cares,
And he’ll respond to all your needs —
A Cloud of Smoke
A sailor was the only survivor of the unfortunate founder-

ing of a vessel near an uncharted and desolate island.
The only way to reach the island was by swimming; but one
had to be a very strong swimmer to reach the shore. All others,
save this one sailor, who attempted swimming the distance
were lost.
On the island, from sticks, reeds and stones, he built a little
shelter to protect himself from the weather. Much of his time
was spent in experimenting with the wild vegetation for
food, and in searching out the island for some other human
beings. Somehow he got a little fire started to keep himself
fairly comfortable when the nights were cold; but he had to
keep it burning continuously. On first reaching the island, he
had taken his shirt and fastened it to the top of a very tall tree
in the hope that some vessel passing might see it and come
to rescue him.
Day after day, he kept searching all over the island. One
morning as he climbed a hill, he saw a cloud of smoke rising
heavenward. He began to hope that this was evidence that
there was another human on the island. Both his heart and
his pace quickened, but on reaching the top of the hill and
looking down, he saw that it was his own little shack with
all of his earthly belongings that had burned away. Slowly,
disappointedly, he made his way back to the shore. There he
sat down in the sand, with his head in his hands, and gazed
out upon the restless sea, wondering if it were not better
for him to walk out into it and drown himself. Surely, this
would end all of his misery …
Suddenly he spied another column of smoke, but it was
on the distant horizon. He watched it anxiously and hope-
fully, thinking that it was a vessel come to rescue him. It was
nearing the island; but suddenly it stopped in its approach,
and his hopes again were shattered. However, in another
moment he noticed that a small lifeboat was being put down
alongside of the vessel, and that a man in the rowboat was
making for the shore where he stood. The man in the boat
ceased rowing, and cupping his lips, shouted to the forlorn
sailor, “We just saw your smoke signals, and have come to
rescue you.”
So, too, the great salvation is not for us until all of our
earthly hopes and ambitions have been completely aban-
doned for the greatest of all treasures — that great redemp-
tion in Christ Jesus!
Reaching the Heart
S OME years ago at a drawing room function, one of Eng-

land’s leading actors was asked to recite for the pleasure
of his fellow guests. He consented and asked if there was any-
thing special that his audience would like to hear.
After a moment’s pause an old clergyman present said,
“Could you, sir, recite to us the Twenty-third Psalm?”
A strange look passed over the actor’s face; he paused for a
moment, and then said, “I can, and I will, upon one condition;
after I have recited it, you, my friend, will do the same.”
“I?” said the clergyman, in surprise. “But I am not an elocu-
tionist. However, if you wish it, I will do so.”
Impressively, the great actor began the Psalm. His voice
and his intonation were perfect. He held his audience spell-
bound; and as he finished, a great burst of applause broke
from the guests.
Then, as it died away, the old clergyman arose and began
the Psalm. His voice was not remarkable; his intonation was
not faultless. When he had finished, no sound of applause
broke the silence, but there was not a dry eye in the room,
and many heads were bowed.
Then the actor rose to his feet again. His voice shook as
he laid his hand upon the shoulder of the old clergyman and
said: “I reached your eyes and ears, my friends; he reached
your hearts. The difference is just this — I know the Twenty-
third Psalm, but he knows the Shepherd.”
17
A Friend
loves
at all times
P ROV E R B S 17:17
Drinking from a Saucer

I’ve never made a fortune
And it’s probably too late now.
But I don’t worry about that much —
I’m happy anyhow.
As I go along life’s journey
I’m reaping better than I sowed.
I’m drinking from my saucer
’Cause my cup has overflowed.
Ain’t got a lot of riches.

Sometimes the going’s rough,
But I’ve got a kid that loves me.
That makes me rich enough.
I just thank God for blessings,
And the mercy he has bestowed.
When things were going wrong,

My faith got a little thin.
Then all at once the dark clouds broke
And the old sun shone again.
So Lord, help me not to gripe
About the tough rows I have hoed.
And if God gives me strength and courage

When the way gets steep and rough,
I won’t ask for other blessings,
I’m already blessed enough.
And may I never be too busy
To help another bear his load.
Then I’ll keep drinking from my saucer
17 : A friend loves at all times 315
Helping Others Win

And they call some of these people “retarded.”
A few years ago, at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine

contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, as-
sembled at the starting line for the 100-yard dash.
At the gun, they all started out — not exactly in a dash, but
with a relish to run the race to the finish and win. All, that is,
except one little boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled
over a couple of times, and began to cry.
The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and
looked back. Then they all turned around and went back.
Every one of them.
One girl with Down’s Syndrome bent down and kissed him
and said, “This will make it better.” Then all nine linked arms
and walked together to the finish line.
Everyone in the stadium stood, and the cheering went on
for several minutes. People who were there are still telling the
story.
Why? Because deep down we know this one thing: what
matters in life is more than winning for ourselves. What mat-
ters in this life is helping others win, even if it means slowing
down and changing our course.
Taking Care of the Lambs
A gentleman, walking over his farm with a friend, was

showing off his crops, herds of cattle, and flocks of
sheep. With all of these his friend was highly pleased, but
especially with his splendid sheep. He had seen the same
breed frequently before, but never had seen such noble speci-
mens. With great earnestness he asked the farmer how he had
succeeded in rearing such flocks. His simple answer was: “I
take care of the lambs, sir.”
Cracked Pots
A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on

the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One
of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect
and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the
long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot
arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer deliv-
ering only one and a half pots of water to his house.
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments,
being perfect for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot
was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it
was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made
to do.
After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, the
cracked pot spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.
“I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes
water to leak out all the way back to your house.”
The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there are
flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other
pot’s side? That is because I have always known of your flaw,
and I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every
day while we walk back, you have watered them. For the past
two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to
decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are,
there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”
Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We are all
cracked pots. But it is the cracks and flaws we each have that
make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.
You’ve just got to take each person for what they are, and look
for the good in them.
An Apron Full of Glass
A plainly dressed woman was noticed picking up some-

thing in the street — a poor, slum street, where ragged,
barefooted little children were accustomed to play. The police-
man on the beat noticed the woman’s action, and watched her
very suspiciously. Several times he saw her stoop and pick up
something and hide it in her apron. Finally he went up to her,
and with a gruff voice and a threatening manner demanded,
“What are you carrying off in your apron?” The timid woman
did not answer at first, whereupon the policeman, thinking
she must have found something valuable, threatened her with
arrest if she did not show him what she had in her apron. The
woman opened her apron and revealed a handful of broken
glass. “What do you want with that stuff?” asked the police-
man. The woman replied, “I just thought I’d like to take it out
of the way of the children’s feet.”
Dear soul, she was doing what she could. How much
sweeter the world would be if each of us would be care-
ful to save the bare feet of the young and the weak!
Just a Short Way to Go Together
“W HY didn’t you tell her she was taking more than her
share of room and encroaching upon your rights?”
someone asked of a young girl who was merrily describing
an old woman who had taken a seat beside her in a crowded
railway car, and crammed into the small space a birdcage, a
basket of apples, and bundles numerous and varied. “It wasn’t
worth while to trouble about it; we had such a little way to go
together,” was the reply. What a motto that would be for a life-
journey! So many little annoyances are not worth noticing, so
many small unkindnesses may be passed by silently because
we have “such a little way to go together.”
Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

She was not beautiful.
Nothing about her was extraordinary.
Nothing about her made her stand out in a crowd.
She grew up in a family of six.
The eldest, she learned responsibility at an early age.
As she grew stronger and brighter,
She instilled a gentle cheer to whomever she met.
She was not beautiful.

But she made others feel beautiful about themselves.
She meets a rebel boy who thinks he’s all man.
Befriending him, she teaches him how to read,
A little boost the man needed to go to college.
They became friends fast and she fell

Fast in love with her rugged, handsome student.
The “man” then finds himself in a dilemma:
He soon found himself in love with a girl.
A girl so beautiful, she turned even the grouchiest man’s head.
Her hair was a halo of light around her,
Her eyes the bluest blue of ocean.
Like an angel, he tells his tutor —

Like a beautiful angel.
The girl swallows a lump at her throat.
She was not beautiful,

She did not possess the heart of the one she loved,
But she did not care.
As long as he was happy,
She would be — or she tried to be.
She helped him write the most beautiful letters to his angel,
All the time envisioning that it was she herself
Receiving those very letters.
And so the girl helped him choose the right words,
Buy the right gifts for his angel.
His angel brought him much joy

And much pain to the girl who cried behind her smiles.
But that never stopped her from giving more
Than she would ever receive.
Then one day, the most terrible thing imaginable broke loose.
The angel he loved left him for another man,
A richer, more successful man.
The boy was stunned.
He was so hurt he did not speak for days.
The girl went to him.
He cried on her shoulder and she cried with him.
He hurt and so did she.
Time went by.

And so the wounds heal.
The boy realizes something about his friend/tutor
He never realized before.
How her laughter sounded heavenly,
How her smiles brightened up the darkest days.
And, simply, how beautiful — yes, beautiful —
she looked to him!
Beautiful.
This plain, simple girl was beautiful to him.
And he began to fall,
Fall so in love with this beautiful girl.
One day, he picked up all his courage to see her.

He walked to her house, nervous and fidgeting,
Running his thoughts over and over in his head.
He was going to tell her how beautiful she was to him.
He was going to tell her how wonderfully in love he was
with her.
He knocked.
No one was home.
The next day he found out,
The beautiful girl he loved had a brain aneurysm
That put her into a coma.
The doctors were grim and the family decided to let her go.
One final time he got to see her.
He held her hand,
He stroked her hair,
And he cried for this beautiful girl.
He cried for he will never see her smile
Or hear her speak his name.
He cried.
But it was too late.
The beautiful girl was buried and the heavens broke out
In a beautiful spring shower, weeping for their loss.
She was the most beautiful girl in the world.
Look around you.

Aren’t there a lot of plain faces?
Take a good look,
A real good look, or you might miss out
On that beautiful person.
Forever.
The Gift of Brotherhood
O N E day Turgenev, the Russian writer, met a beggar who

besought him for alms. “I felt in all my pockets,” he said,
“but there was nothing there. The beggar waited, and his out-
stretched hand twitched and trembled slightly. Embarrassed
and confused, I seized his dirty hand and pressed it. ‘Do not be
angry with me, brother,’ I said, ‘I have nothing with me.’ The
beggar raised his bloodshot eyes and smiled. ‘You called me
“brother”,’ he said. ‘That was indeed a gift.’ ’’
True Love
A young woman who fancied herself a poetess, and who

had her own ideas about love, once came with her
poems to the editorial office of a New York magazine. The
editor asked her what she wanted. She told him that she had
some poems that she would like to have published in his mag-
azine. “About what?” asked the editor. “All about love,” she
replied. “Love,” recited the young woman, casting her eyes
heavenward, “is gazing upon a lily pond at night, by the shim-
mering moonbeams, when the lilies are in full bloom, and …”
“Stop, stop, stop!” cried the editor, curtly interrupting her, “you
are all wrong. I will tell you what love is: it is getting up cheer-
fully out of a warm bed on a cold winter morning, at two
o’clock, to fill hot-water bottles for ailing children. That’s real
love. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can use your poems.”
The Pit
A man fell into a pit and couldn’t get himself out.
A subjective person came along and said, “I feel for you,
down there.”
An objective person came along and said, “It’s logical that
someone would fall down there.”
A Pharisee said, “Only bad people fall into a pit.”
A mathematician calculated how he fell into the pit.
A news reporter wanted the exclusive story on his pit.
A fundamentalist said, “You deserve it.”
An I.R.S. man asked if he was paying his taxes on the pit.
A self-pity person said, “You haven’t seen anything until
you’ve seen my pit.”
An optimist said, “Things will get better.”
A pessimist said, “Things will get worse.”
Jesus, seeing the man, took him by the hand and
lifted him out of the pit.
The Shoulder
M Y mother used to ask me what is the most important

part of the body. Through the years I would take a
guess at what I thought was the correct answer.
When I was younger, I thought sound was very important
to us, so I said, “My ears, Mommy.” She said, “No. Many
people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask
you again soon.”
Several years passed before she asked me again. Since mak-
ing my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer.
So this time I told her, “Mommy, sight is very important to
everybody, so it must be our eyes.”
She looked at me and told me, “You are learning fast, but
the answer is not correct because there are many people who
are blind.”
Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge. Over
the years, Mother asked me a couple more times and always
her answer was, “No, but you are getting smarter every year,
my child.”
Then last year, my grandpa died. Everybody was hurt. Every-
body was crying. Even my father cried. My mom looked at
me when it was our turn to say our final good-bye to Grandpa.
She asked me, “Do you know the most important body part
yet, my dear?”
I was shocked when she asked me this now. I always
thought this was a game between her and me. She saw the
confusion on my face and told me, “This question is very
important. It shows that you have really lived your life.
“For every body part you suggested in the past, I have told
you it was wrong and I have given you an example why. But
today is the day you need to learn this important lesson.”
She looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes
well up with tears. She said, “My dear, the most important
body part is your shoulder.”
I asked, “Is it because it holds up your head?” She replied,
“No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or loved one
when they cry.
“Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life, my
dear. I only hope that you have enough love and friends that
you will have a shoulder to cry on when you need it.”
Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a
selfish one. It is sympathetic to the pain of others.
The Voice of his Father
I once heard the famous Scottish preacher, John McNeil,

relate this personal incident. During his boyhood in Scot-
land, he worked a long distance from home. The walk home
took him through a dense forest and across a wide ravine,
where wild animals and robber gangs lurked. Darkness would
often gather before he got to the woods, and he said, “How I
dreaded to make the last part of the trip! I never went through
those woods without trembling with fear.
“One night it was especially dark, but I was aware that
something or someone was moving stealthily toward me. I
was sure it was a robber. A voice called out, and its eerie tone
struck my heart cold with fear. I thought I was finished. Then
came a second call, and this time I could hear the voice saying,
‘John, is that you?’ It was my father’s voice. He had known
my fear of the ravine and the darkness of the forest, and he
had come out to meet me. My father took hold of my hand
and put his arm around me; I never had a sweeter walk in my
life. His coming changed the whole trip.”
That is God’s relationship to you and me! He is your Father
and my Father. Through the darkness and mists we hear his
voice —he has come to meet us. Just at the time we need him,
he will be there. Through the darkest moments of life our
Heavenly Father says, “Fear not! Here is my hand! I will walk
the rest of the way with you.”
The Human Bible
I remember the story of a chaplain who, passing over the

battlefield, saw lying upon the ground a soldier that had
been wounded. The chaplain had his Bible under his arm,
and he stooped down and said to the man, “Would you like
to have me read you something that is in the Bible?” The
wounded man said, “I am so thirsty, I would rather have a
drink of water.” The chaplain hurried off as quickly as possible
and brought the water. After the man drank the water he said,
“Could you lift my head, and put something under it?” The
chaplain took off his own overcoat, rolled it up and, tenderly
lifting the soldier, put it as a pillow for his tired head to rest on.
“Now,” said the man, “If I only had something over me: I am
so cold.” There was only one thing for the chaplain to do, and
that was to take his coat off and cover the man. As he did so,
the wounded soldier looked up into his face and said, “If there
is anything in that book that makes a man do for another what
you have done for me, let me hear it.”
There is infinite meaning in that story. Many people will
never see Jesus unless they see him in our lives.
Known by her Father
A father was holding his little blind daughter on his knee.

Just then a friend came in, and, picking her up, walked
off with her into the garden. The little one expressed neither
surprise nor fear, so her father said, “Aren’t you afraid, dar-
ling?” “No,” she said. “But you don’t know who has you!”
“No,” was the prompt reply, “but you do, Father.” That was
enough. She was in “the sight of” her father, and faith in her
father’s loving care banished fear.
Knowing the Author
A young lady once laid down a book which she had just
finished with the remark that it was the dullest story
she had ever read. Some time later she became engaged to
a young man, and one night she said to him, “I have a book
in my library whose author’s name, even his initials, are pre-
cisely the same as yours. Isn’t that a coincidence?” “I do not
think so,” he replied. “Why not, pray?” “For the simple reason
that I wrote the book.” That night the young lady sat up until
two o’clock reading the book again, and this time it seemed
the most interesting story she had ever read. The once dull
book was now fairly fascinating, because she knew and loved
the author.
So a child of God finds the Bible interesting because
he knows and loves the Author. It is his Father’s message,
addressed to him.
Showing the Way
I T is a dark stormy night, and a little child, lost in the streets

of the city, is crying in distress. A policeman, gathering from
the child’s story enough to locate the home, gives directions:
“Just go down this street, half a mile, turn and cross the big iron
bridge, then turn to your right and follow the river down a
little way, and you’ll see then where you are.” The poor child
only half comprehending, chilled by the wind and bewildered
in the storm, is turning about blindly, when another voice
speaks kindly, “Just come with me.” The little hand is clasped
in a stronger one, the corner of a warm cloak is thrown over
the shoulders of the shivering child, and the way home is
made easy. The first one had told the way; the second conde-
scends to be the way.
Who is a True Friend?
A voyaging ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and

only two of the men on it were able to swim to a small
desert island. The two survivors, Bob and Joe, who were old
friends, agreed that they had no other recourse but to pray to
God.
However, to find out whose prayer was more powerful,
they agreed to divide the territory between them and stay on
opposite sides of the island.
The first thing Bob prayed for was food. The next morning,
he saw a fruit-bearing tree on his side of the island, and he
was able to eat its fruit. Joe’s parcel of land remained barren.
After a week, Bob was lonely and decided to pray for a wife.
The next day, another ship was wrecked, and the only survi-
vor was a woman who swam to his side of the island. On the
other side of the island, nobody arrived. Soon Bob prayed for
a house, clothes, and more food. The next day, like magic, all
of these were given to him. However, Joe still had nothing.
Finally, Bob prayed for a ship, so that he and his wife could
leave the island. In the morning, he found a ship docked at
his side of the island. He boarded the ship with his wife and
decided to leave Joe on the island.
He decided that Joe was unworthy to receive God’s bless-
ings, since none of his prayers had been answered. As the ship
was about to leave, Bob heard a Voice from heaven booming,
“Why are you leaving your friend on the island?”
“My blessings are mine alone, since I was the one who
prayed for them,” Bob answered. “His prayers were all unan-
swered and so he does not deserve anything.”
“You are mistaken!” the Voice rebuked him. “He had only
one prayer, which I answered. If not for that, you would not
have received any of my blessings.”
“Tell me,” Bob asked the Voice, “What did he pray for that I
should owe him anything?”
“He prayed that all your prayers be answered.”
For all we know, our blessings are not the fruits of our
prayers alone, but those of another praying for us. My prayer
for you today is that all your prayers are answered.
If it Doesn’t Rain
A young man spent an entire evening telling a girl how

much he loved her. He said that he couldn’t live with-
out her; that he’d go to the ends of the earth for her; yes, go
through fire for her, or die for her. But when leaving he said,
“I’ll see you tomorrow night — if it doesn’t rain.”
How often we say we love God, yet deny it by our actions.
The Apostle John said, “Let us not love in word, neither in
tongue; but in deed and in truth.”
Two Goats on a Bridge
T H E Y tell the story of two goats who found themselves

on different sides of a narrow but turbulent stream. Each
wanted to get to the other side. There was no bridge; but a
dead tree trunk had fallen so that it afforded the means for
crossing from one side to the other. They both started out
from opposite sides of the stream, at the same time, only to
meet in the middle of this precarious little bridge. Now, they
might each of them have fought with the other for the right
of way, with the chance that both of them might have slipped
into the stream to certain death. One, however, had the good
sense to lie down to let the other walk over him, after which
he himself arose to go his own way in peace. Yes, we do sing,
“low in the dust I’d lay me, that the world my Savior might
see,” but do we really mean it?
A. C. Frey
Lincoln Scattering an April Shower
I I were to paint a picture of Lincoln, I would call my picture

F
Lincoln Scattering an April Shower. It would be of that morn-
ing in Springfield when he saw a girl standing in an open door
and crying. He learned that the baggage man had forgotten to
come for her trunk and she was likely to miss the train. He
quickly shouldered the trunk and strode off with giant steps
to the depot. There might not be much dignity in the picture,
but there would be lots of heart.
In the Ruins of Pompeii
D URING some recent research among the ruins of Pompeii,

the explorers turned up a touching relic. It was the body
of a crippled boy. He was lame in his foot. And around the
body there was a woman’s arm: a finely-shaped, beautiful,
bejeweled arm. This mute find told its simple story. The great
eruption suddenly coming from the volcano, the crowd flee-
ing for life, the little cripple unable to get along fast enough,
the woman’s heart touched, her arm thrown about the boy to
aid his escape; then the overflowing ash, and both lost. The
arm that was stretched out to save another was preserved,
and only that. All the rest of the brave rescuer’s body was
gone. The saving part was saved.
Stained Glass Saints

A child, on being asked, “What is a saint?”
could recall only the stained glass windows
of his parish church.
His reply was: “A saint is a person that the
light shines through.”
How true!
A. C. Frey
A Toddler’s Smile
T HE young woman who boarded the bus carried in her

arms a little girl about a year old, a beautiful child with
golden ringlets, large blue eyes, and a hint of roses in her
cheek.
A few blocks farther on two workmen — both in grimy
working clothes — entered. They sat directly behind the
young woman. The baby looked at them over her mother’s
shoulders. The men smiled at her, and one touched her little
hand. After just a moment of wide-eyed wonder, her face
dimpled into a smile and she stretched out her chubby arms to
them. It mattered not to her that these were strangers — that
their clothes were stained with the dust and grime of their
daily toil. The child saw only their smiles; she recognized
their friendliness.
What a simple thing it is to offer a friendly smile. Many peo-
ple are waiting for kindness and understanding. The kingdom
of our Lord is made up of all kinds and classes and conditions
of people. The lands from which they come, the languages
they speak, the color of their skin may differ from ours, but
unless we accept them in the spirit of Christian friendliness,
with the sincerity of a little child, we cannot hope to enter
into the joy of Christ’s kingdom with them.
What Science Cannot Measure
S CIENCE has its limitations. It can tell us that a mother’s

tears are just so much hydrogen and oxygen (water), and
so much sodium chloride (salt); how much it weighs and how
much space it occupies. Yet you and I know that this doesn’t
begin to tell what a mother’s tears really are; for science is
unable either to weigh or to measure the deep and sincere
emotions that bring the tears into being!
Jesus, Friend of the Common Man
A missionary in India, in one of her tours, came upon a

distant village of natives who were unusually mild in
their treatment of her. She explained the life of Christ to them,
telling them he was the poor man’s friend, that he used to eat
with common people, and heal their sick, that little children
ran after him and climbed upon his knees as he sat in their
houses. Suddenly she was interrupted by a native, who said:
“Miss Sahib, we know him well. He lived here for years.” It
turned out that an old man belonging to another mission had
once lived in that far-away village. Oh, my friends, if only our
villagers could recognize Jesus in your life and mine!
Making it Easier for the Competition
I N the early years of this century, it was not uncommon to

see a shabbily dressed man coming down the street, cry-
ing, “Umbrellas to mend.” He carried with him a few steel
umbrella ribs and some cotton thread. You would come out
with a broken umbrella, and hand it to him to repair. In a few
minutes he would return it to you, asking only a few cents for
his work. One of these umbrella menders seemed to be more
diligent than most others, and made sure that his work would
really last. When asked why he was so very careful, taking
unusual pains to see that it was what it ought to be, he replied
that he wanted to make it easier for the next umbrella mender
that might pass that way — that people might trust him to do
a good job, too. He was just thinking of others.
Ignore the Blots
O N reaching home one evening, tired and somewhat

dispirited, my little girl brought me her copy-book which
she had just completed. It was her first, and the young face
reddened with a beautiful and honest flush, for she knew as
she turned the pages some little word of praise and cheer
would reward her hard efforts. The pages were very neatly
written. I told her what a pleasure it was to see how careful
she had been. Presently we came to one on which were two
small blots. As she turned the page the little hand covered
them, and looking up into my face with an artlessness that
was beautiful, she said, “Papa, don’t see the blots!” Of course,
I did see them, but I bent down and kissed the little forehead,
and was thankful for the lesson I had learned. How precious
it would be if, amid all the nameless strifes and discords that
so fret and chafe us, we could just lay our hand over the sul-
lied page of human lives and “not see the blots.” When trifles
annoy and vex us, if we would only look away from these to
some brighter pages!
Daddy Didn’t Say, “Oh!’’
I believe it was Pastor Dolman whom I heard tell how he was

sitting at his desk one day when he heard the door creak,
and then suddenly there was a sharp cry of pain. Looking up
he saw his daughter who had started to enter the room when
her fingers had caught in the door. He jumped and calling the
mother said, “You better come and look after this little girl.”
The mother came and taking the child said tenderly, “Does
it hurt so dreadfully?” “Oh, it hurts,” said the child, “but the
worst is that Daddy didn’t even say, ‘Oh!’” There is some-
one who sighs for us, weeps with us, feels with us in our
troubles — remember what is said of our Lord, “In all their
affliction he was afflicted …”—Isaiah 63:9.
Written in Stone
A story tells that two friends were walking through the

desert. During some point of the journey they had an
argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face.
The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying any-
thing, wrote in the sand: Today my best friend slapped me
in the face.
They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they
decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got
stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved
him. After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on
a stone: Today my best friend saved my life.
The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked
him, “After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand. Now, you write
on a stone. Why?” The other friend replied, “When someone
hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of
forgiveness can erase it away. But when someone does some-
thing good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind
can ever erase it.”
Learn to write your hurts in the sand and to carve your
blessings in stone.
There’s Only One Today!

I’ll never have this day again,
And when today is through
I may not have another chance
For things I ought to do.
The friendship I should offer,
The kindness someone needs,
The thoughtfulness I can express
In loving little deeds.
The helpful words that someone
Might wait to hear me say:
Lord, help me to remember
There’s only one Today!
Friendship
A collection of sayings
If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hun-
dred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.”
— Winnie-the-Pooh
A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world
walks out.
Strangers are just friends waiting to happen.
Friendship is one mind in two bodies. — Mencius
Friends are God’s way of taking care of us.
If you should die before me, ask if you could bring a
friend. — Stone Temple Pilots
I’ll lean on you and you lean on me and we’ll be
okay. — Dave Matthews Band
Everyone hears what you say.

Friends listen to what you say.
We all take different paths in life, but no matter
where we go, we take a little of each other everywhere.
— Tim McGraw
Hold a true friend with both your hands. — Nigerian Proverb
A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart
and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the
words. — Unknown
The Athenians and the Spartans
O NE day, at the national Olympic games of Greece, a feeble

old man arrived late and found all the seats occupied. He
passed the seats of the Athenians, but they only laughed at the
old man. He passed on to the seats of the Spartans, when in
a moment, they rose from their seats as one man to offer him
a seat. The Athenians, seeing this, raised a loud cheer. “Ah!”
said the aged, white-haired stranger, “the Athenians admire
that which is good, but the Spartans practice it.’’
The Goose Story
T HE next time you see geese heading south for the win-
ter, flying along in a “V” formation, you might consider
what science has discovered as to why they fly that way.
As each bird flaps its wings, it creates an uplift for the bird
immediately following.
By flying in a “V” formation, as a group, the flock adds at
least seventy-two percent greater flying range than if each bird
flew on its own.
People who share a common direction and sense of com-
munity can get where they are going more quickly and easily,
because they are traveling on the thrust of one another.
When a goose falls out of formation, it suddenly feels the
drag and resistance trying to go it alone, and quickly gets back
into formation to take advantage of the lifting power of the
bird in front.
If we have as much sense as a goose, we will stay in forma-
tion with those who are headed the same way we are.
When the head goose gets tired, it rotates back in the wing,
and another goose flies point.
It is sensible to take turns doing demanding jobs, with
people or with geese flying south.
Geese honk from behind to encourage those up front to
keep up their speed.
Finally — and this is important — when a goose gets sick or
is wounded by gunshots and falls out of formation, two other
geese fall out with that goose and follow it down to lend help
and protection. They stay with the fallen goose until it is able
to fly or until it dies, and only then do they launch out on their
own, or with another formation, to catch up to their original
group.
If we have the sense of a goose, we can more easily rec-
ognize the potential benefits of collaboration, solidarity and
brotherhood to keep each other strong.
We need each other!
A Tricycle for my Brother
A little girl in a migrant camp fell in love with one of the

dolls in the toy box, but she had to put it back when
play time was over.
At Christmas time the camp staff arranged to give out toys
and agreed to let the child with perfect attendance have first
choice. A beautiful doll was placed in the center of the gifts
and the little girl, having had perfect attendance, was permit-
ted to choose first. Her eyes nearly popped as she stood before
the doll. She stared in wonder, then she turned and walked
down and took a tricycle.
When asked why, she said her little brother had wanted a
tricycle and now she could give him one.
18
A Joyful
Heart
is good
medicine
P ROV E R B S 17: 2 2
Quick Cure at the Doctor’s Office
A woman went to the doctor’s office. She was seen by

one of the new doctors, but after about four minutes
in the examination room, she burst out, screaming as she ran
down the hall.
An older doctor stopped and asked her what the problem
was, and she explained. He then had her sit down and relax
in another room.
The older doctor marched back to the new doctor and
demanded, “What’s the matter with you? Mrs. Terry is 63
years old, she has four grown children and seven grandchil-
dren, and you told her she was pregnant?”
The new doctor continued to write on his clipboard and
said, “Does she still have the hiccups?”
Barney
A four-year-old was at the pediatrician for a checkup.

As the doctor looked in her ears with an otoscope, he
asked, “Do you think I’ll find Big Bird in here?” The little girl
stayed silent. Next, the doctor took a tongue depressor and
looked down her throat.
He asked, “Do you think I’ll find the Cookie Monster down
there?”
Again, the little girl was silent. The doctor put a stetho-
scope to her chest. As he listened to her heartbeat, he asked,
“Do you think I’ll hear Barney in there?”
“Oh, no!” the little girl replied. “Jesus is in my heart.
Barney’s on my underpants.”
18 : A joyful heart is good medicine 339
The Winking Owl
D R . A. C. Dixon tells a story of a man who, going down

a street in Chicago, came to a taxidermist’s shop and
stopped long enough to criticize some things. In the window
was an owl. The man said, “That owl is not stuffed right: its
head is not on right, the body is not poised right, the feathers
are not fixed right. If I could not stuff an owl better than that,
I would leave the taxidermy business.” When he finished, the
owl turned around and winked at him. The man continued
down the street feeling like the biggest fool in Chicago, for
he had criticized a live owl.
A living owl was beyond the man’s criticism.
God’s living Word is beyond the world’s criticism.
Discouraged
A S I was driving home from work one day, I stopped

to watch a local Little League baseball game that was
being played in the park near my home. As I sat down behind
the bench on the first base line, I asked one of the boys what
the score was. “We’re behind 14 to nothing,” he answered
with a smile.
“Really,” I said. “I have to say you don’t look very discouraged.”
“Discouraged?” the boy asked with a puzzled look on his
face. “Why should we be discouraged? We haven’t been up
to bat yet.”
The Jam is Loving-Kindness
M asked her six-year-old what loving-kindness

OT H ER
meant. “Well,” he said, “when I ask you for a piece of
bread and butter and you give it to me, that’s kindness, but
when you put jam on it, that’s loving-kindness.”
Light the Lantern
O N E night a motorist was run down by a train at a grade

crossing. The old signal man in charge of the crossing had
to appear in court. After a severe cross-examination, he was
still unshaken. He said he had waved his lantern frantically,
but all to no avail. The following day the superintendent of
the line called him into his office. “You did wonderfully well
yesterday, Tom,” he said. “I was afraid at first that you might
waver.” “No, sir,” replied Tom, “but I was afraid that old law-
yer was going to ask me whether or not my lantern was lit!”
What it Means to be Adopted
T E AC H E R Debbie Moon’s first graders were discussing

a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture had
a different color hair than the other family members. One
child suggested that he was adopted, and a little girl said, “I
know all about adoptions because I was adopted.”
“What does it mean to be adopted?” asked another child.
“It means,” said the girl, “that you grew in your mommy’s
heart instead of her tummy.”
Willingly Deaf
C . H. Spurgeon, while still a young man and a village pas-

tor, was passing the house of a woman known as the vil-
lage termagant, who greeted him with a volley of rude words.
Smiling, the young man said, “Yes, thank you; I am quite
well.” She burst into another string of expletives. “Yes, it does
look as if it’s going to rain,” he replied. Surprised as well as
exasperated, the woman exclaimed, “Bless the man, he’s as
deaf as a post! What’s the use of talking to him?”
The Best Translation
A young man was asked by a friend, “What have you got

to do with the British and Foreign Bible Society?” “Oh,”
said George, “I am a translator.” “What! You, a translator?”
“Yes,” said George, “I’m busy translating the Bible into my
daily life.”
You Can Only Weigh What You Are
A little boy was on the scales, and being very anxious

to outweigh his playmate he puffed out his cheeks
and swelled like a frog. But the playmate was wiser. “Oho!”
he cried in scorn, “that doesn’t do any good; you can only
weigh what you are!” How true this is of us bigger children
who try to impress ourselves — and, yes, sometimes God
Almighty — by the virtues we should like to have! It doesn’t
do any good. “You can only weigh what you are.”
A Good Camera
A N amateur photographer was invited to dinner with

friends and took along a few pictures to show the
hostess. She looked at the photos and commented, “These
are very good! You must have a good camera.”
He didn’t make any comment, but, as he was leaving to go
home he said, “That was a really delicious meal! You must
have some very good pots.”
“Likee Speech?”
W HEN we do not know just what we should say, it is

well for us not to say anything; for, if we do speak, it
is possible that we will be embarrassed when the situation
finally resolves itself. Many years ago there was a banquet at
Princeton University, to which the great Chinese diplomat,
Dr. Wellington Koo, was invited to be the guest of honor and
the chief speaker. As one of a number of representatives of
the student body on this occasion, a burly member of the
Princeton football team found himself seated next to Dr.
Koo. Very embarrassed by the formality of the occasion, and
utterly at a loss for conversation, the young man turned to
Dr. Koo during the soup course and said, “Likee soup?”
Dr. Koo urbanely bowed his head and grinned. Later, he
arose and delivered a polished, thoughtful and witty address.
Sitting down amidst applause, Dr. Koo turned to the cha-
grined student and said smilingly, “Likee speech?”
It’s the Content that Counts
T HE daughter of a village doctor was complaining to her

father of the drudgery of housework. The doctor pointed
to some rows of empty bottles and said, “These bottles are
of no value in themselves, but in one I put a deadly poison,
in another a sweet perfume, in a third a healing medicine.
Nobody cares for the vials; it is their content which kills
or cures. Your daily tasks — the dishes washed or the floors
swept — are homely things and count for nothing in them-
selves; but it is the anger or the sweet patience or zeal or high
thoughts that you put into them that shall last. These make
your life.”
Laughing at the Storm
A gentleman was crossing on the ferry from New York to

Brooklyn. The tide was running very high and the boat
crashed into the dock. In a moment all was confusion. The
gentleman noticed a little girl sitting on the knee of the hack-
man, who evidently was her father. The little chin began to
quiver, the tears started to her eyes, and a cry of fear sprang
from her lips. But turning and looking into her father’s face,
she saw him laughing. Instantly, without having anything
explained, the tears dried, the little mouth straightened out,
and the cry of fear gave place to a merry laugh. She had faith
in her father.
Man, Boy and Donkey
A N old man, a boy and a donkey were going to town;

the boy rode on the donkey and the old man walked.
As they went along they passed some people who remarked
it was a shame the old man was walking and the boy was
riding. The man and the boy thought maybe the critics were
right, so they changed positions.
Later they passed some people that remarked, “What a
shame, he makes that little boy walk.” They decided they
both would walk.
Soon they passed some more people who thought they
were stupid to walk when they had a decent donkey to ride.
So, they both rode the donkey.
Now they passed some people that shamed them by saying
how awful it was to put such a load on the poor donkey. The
boy and man said they were probably right, so they decided
to carry the donkey.
As they crossed a bridge, they lost their grip on the animal
and he fell into the river and drowned.
The moral of the story: If you try to please everyone, you
may eventually lose everything!
Bumblebees Cannot Fly
S OM E years ago I met a mechanical engineer, who told me

that it had once been proven by the law of aerodynam-
ics — after measuring the body and the wings of a bumble-
bee — that such a creature could never fly. But the bumblebee
could not read, nor could it understand what the learned sci-
entists were saying about it, so it just went right on flying!
A. C. Frey
What Do We Hear?
A group of three women was standing in the railway sta-

tion at Back Bay, Boston, evidently awaiting the arrival
of a guest. As they stood there, a young couple passed them,
and part of their conversation reached the ears of the three
women. One of the group said, “Oh, I know where they
have been: to a concert, for I heard her say something about
a ‘trained ear.’” The second woman then remarked, “Now
isn’t that funny; I am sure that they have been to the zoo, for
I heard her distinctly say something about a ‘reindeer.’” The
third one said, “I am sure that you are both mistaken. What
she said concerned the weather, for she asked him if it had
‘rained here.’” The three women began to argue, but decided
to settle the dispute by asking the couple what they had been
discussing as they passed.
They were all very much surprised when the young lady
told them that she merely said to her fiancé, “I’m glad you
met me at the train, dear.”
A. C. Frey
“There Ain’t No Such Animal”
A hardware salesman, visiting a farm, intrigued the

farmer’s son by the interesting stories he told. One
story the boy could not believe, however, was about an ani-
mal the salesman called a giraffe. The salesman told the lad
that this animal had a neck so long that he could, without
stretching, reach the level of the barn loft while standing on
the ground.
Sometime later, on learning that a circus was coming to a
nearby town, the salesman went to the farm to pick up the
lad and bring him to see a real giraffe. At the circus, upon
seeing the giraffe, the lad remarked, “There just ain’t no such
animal.” How reluctant we, too, are at times to believe the
Truth that our Heavenly Father puts before us!
A. C. Frey
A Bumped Cow Kicks
W H EN she was a little girl, a lady learned a good lesson,

which she tells for the benefit of others: “One frosty
morning I was looking out of the window into my father’s
farmyard, where stood many cows, oxen, horses, etc., wait-
ing to drink. It was a cold morning. The cattle all stood very
still and meek, till one of the cows attempted to turn around.
In doing so she happened to bump her neighbor, whereupon
the neighbor kicked and hit another. In five minutes all the
animals were kicking each other with fury. My mother
laughed and said, ‘See what comes of kicking when you are
hit? Just so, I have seen one cross word set a whole family in
an uproar.’ Afterward, if my brothers or myself were a little
irritable, she would say, ‘Take care, my children. Remember
how the fight in the farmyard began. Never give back a kick
for a hit, and you will save yourself and others a great deal
of trouble.’”
Carry a Can of Oil
T HER E is a story of an old man who carried a little can

of oil with him everywhere he went, and if he passed
through a door that squeaked, he poured a little oil on the
hinges. If a gate was hard to open, he oiled the latch. And
thus he passed through life lubricating all the hard places and
making it easier for those who came after him.
People called him eccentric, queer, and cranky; but the old
man went steadily on, refilling his can of oil when it became
empty, and oiling the hard places he found.
There are many lives that creak and grate harshly as they
live day by day. Nothing goes right with them. They need
lubricating with the oil of gladness, gentleness, or thought-
fulness. Have you your own can of oil with you? Be ready
with your oil of helpfulness in the early morning. It may
lubricate the whole day for someone. The oil of good cheer
to the downhearted one — Oh, how much it may mean! The
word of courage to the despairing — Speak it!
When Five Minutes is an Hour
T HE following incident is reported by the Rev. Thain

Davidson. It has its own lesson …
“You have made me lose a whole hour,” said a gentleman to
a lad as he came into a room where an important commit-
tee was meeting. “Beg pardon, sir, that is impossible,” said
the youth, taking out his watch. “I’m only five minutes late.”
“Very true,” replied the other, “but there are twelve of us here,
and each one of us has lost five minutes; so that makes an
hour.”
The Christian in the Coal Mine

“I think a Christian can go anywhere,” said a young woman
who was defending her continual attendance at some
doubtful places of amusement. “Certainly she can,” rejoined
her friend, “but I am reminded of a little incident which
happened last summer when I went with a party of friends
to explore a coal mine. One of the young women appeared
dressed in a dainty white gown. When her friends remon-
strated with her, she appealed to the old miner who was to act
as guide to the party. ‘Can’t I wear a white dress down there
in the mine?’ she asked, petulantly. ‘Yes, mum,’ returned the
old man, ‘there is nothing to keep you from wearing a white
frock down there, but there will be considerable to keep you
from wearing one back.’”
Total Commitment
A chicken and a pig were passing by a church and heard

the beautiful choral singing. Said the chicken to the pig,
“That was beautiful! Let’s show our appreciation by giving
them a good ham and egg breakfast.” Replied the pig, “For you,
that may be sacrifice; for me, that is total commitment.”
19
Listen to
Counsel
and accept
Discipline
P ROV E R B S 19 : 2 0
A collection of seed thoughts

Compiled by E. O. Weeks
Adversity
Blessings thrive in affliction’s soil.
Afflictions are but the shadow of God’s wings.
A man who removes a mountain begins by carrying away
small stones.
If winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Trouble is only opportunity in work clothes.
Adversity may sometimes get a Christian down, but only
on his knees.
Jesus spoke of Christianity as a banquet, but never as a
picnic.
No trouble can come so near that God is not nearer.
The difficulties of life are intended to make us better, not
bitter.
One reason that the school of Christ is so tough is that you
get the test first and the lesson later.
God often digs wells of joy with the spade of sorrow and
adversity.
God’s grace enables us to “face the music” even when we
don’t like the tune.
The darkest clouds often bring the heaviest showers of
blessings.
Jesus is no security against life’s storms, but he is perfect
security in them.
Troubles are not sent to bother us but to better us.
If we had no trials, there would be no triumphs.
A smooth sea never makes a skillful sailor.
When it gets dark enough, you can see the stars.
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
19 : Listen to counsel and accept discipline 351
Trouble is to the triumphant spirit what turbulent water is

to a sturdy boat.
Prosperity makes friends, adversity tries them.
If things go wrong, don’t go with them.
When the leaves are gone, we are able to see the sky more
clearly.
When experiences send us on the rocks, let us be a light-
house, not a wreck.
Adversity is the way the Great Surgeon gives us a “faith”
lift.
Gain requires pain!
The brook that flows over stones makes the sweetest music.
You will never be the person you can be if afflictions, tri-
als, and disciplines are taken out of your life.
He who will have nothing to do with thorns can never
gather roses.
Every morning is a new beginning.
Only God can change sunsets into sunrises.
Tears are often the means by which we see God’s rainbow
of promises.
If you remove the rocks, the brook will lose its song.
If the going gets easy, you may be going downhill.
Anger
People who fly off the handle usually make a bad landing.
Losing your temper is no way to get rid of it.
The acid of anger harms the one in whom it is stored more
than the one on whom it is poured.
Beware! Anger is just one letter short of danger.
Anger that answers anger is like a stone cast into a hornets’
nest.
The longer you keep your temper the more it will improve.
Suppress a moment of anger and you prevent a day of
sorrow.
Anger is the wind that blows out the lamp of reason.

There are times when you should never say anything impor-
tant to a person: when he is tired, when he is angry, and when
he has just made a mistake.
Temper: a quality that at critical moments brings out the
best in steel and the worst in people.
Those who shoot from the hip often hit themselves in the
foot.
Aspirations
Be wholly for God if you want to be holy like him.
By making a commitment, it will in turn make you.
Hitch your wagon to a star but hold your horses.
There is a deep tendency in human nature to become what
we imagine ourselves to be.
The degree of vision in a man is the correct measure of that
man.
He who puts God first must of necessity put himself last.
The true test: not, is it wrong, but is it best?
The archer shoots only as high as he aims.
If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.
Only God can satisfy the hungry heart of man.
We aspire by setting up ideals and then going all out to
acquire them.
If you aim at nothing, you’re sure to hit it.
Silence is the atmosphere in which great things are fash-
ioned.
“Average” is as close to the bottom as it is to the top.
Reaching high keeps a man on his toes.
The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to
venture a little past them into the impossible.
You will never hit your target if you don’t shoot for it.
Attitude
A “bone of contention” has no place in the body of Christ.
Hardening of the heart is more serious than hardening of

the arteries.
You are neither as good as your friends say nor as bad as
your enemies say.
Some people seem to go through life standing at the com-
plaint counter.
Events are less important than our reaction to them.
What you are, so is your world.
Stability is not an end of problems, but a way of reacting
to them.
It is good to have an open mind as long as it is not so porous
as not to hold convictions.
A sensitive listener hears what is said, and sometimes the
things that are not able to be said.
Often the same thing that makes one person bitter makes
another better.
It is always easier to see both sides of an issue that we are
not particularly concerned about.
You can’t expect a man to see eye to eye with you when
you’re looking down on him.
The man who does only what is required of him is a slave;
the moment he does more, he is a free man.
In spite of the cost of living, it’s still popular.
Things that would be easy become difficult when done
with reluctance.
Interesting people are those who are interested.
Life is like eating a watermelon, enjoying its sweetness
while spitting out the seeds.
We do not always see things as they are, we usually see
things as we are.
If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will
come.
An optimist is one who makes the best of it when he gets
the worst of it.
A pessimist is one who complains about the noise when

opportunity knocks.
Look at your work as something that you can do rather than
something you can’t do.
It’s not your position but your disposition that makes you
happy.
Awareness
God never makes us conscious of our weaknesses except to
give his strength.
We live on a moving line between the past and the future.
That line is our lifeline.
God can speak only to those who listen.
Experience is the awareness of knowing a lot of things you
should not do!
Nothing is wonderful if it is taken for granted.
A mistake is evidence that at least someone has tried to do
something.
Don’t let your mind become so busy that your heart can’t
respond.
Awareness is realizing that great opportunities are often
disguised as impossible situations.
Bible
Without the Bible, man would be in the midst of a sandy
desert, surrounded on all sides by a dark and impenetrable
horizon.
Many Bibles are “red” only on the edges.
What you bring away from the Bible depends to some
extent on what you bring to it.
More people are troubled by what is plain in the scriptures
than by what is obscure.
The only Bible some people will ever read is the Bible
according to you.
The Bible is a guide book; the way to master it is to let it
master you.
The Bible is a mirror in which man sees himself as he

really is.
The Bible is the traveler’s map, the pilgrim’s staff, the
soldier’s sword, and the Christian’s charter.
In God’s works we see his hand, but in his Word we see
his heart.
Going through the Bible is fine, but it is best to let the Bible
go through you.
Christian Living
Our lives are like violins: in the right hands they will give
forth wonderful music.
Live each day as if it were your last — it may be!
Reputation is what men think you are; character is what
God knows you are.
The light of God’s Son in your heart puts his sunshine on
your face.
If we save the candle, there will be no light.
Character is what you are in the dark.
A true Christian is one who is right-side-up in an upside-
down world.
God formed us, sin deformed us, and only God through
Jesus can transform us.
If you are not as close to God as you were, you need not
wonder who moved.
If anyone speaks evil of you, your life should be such that
no one would believe them.
If you would lift others up, you must be on high ground
yourself.
Our critics are the unpaid guardians of our souls.
If a sermon pricks your conscience it must have some good
points.
A shining countenance brightens your example of faith.
Our good advice is sometimes confused by our bad
example.
He who walks with God will be out of step with the

world.
The cross is the first rung of the ladder to heaven.
The nearest way to glory is to strive toward that goal.
Christmas
The hinge of history is on the door of Bethlehem’s stable.
Conscience
He won’t listen to his conscience — he doesn’t want advice
from a total stranger.
When we can’t hear God’s directions, it’s time to turn up
the volume of our conscience.
Contentment
Discontentment makes rich men poor, contentment makes
poor men rich.
He who lives content with little, possesses much.
If we cannot find contentment in ourselves, it is useless to
seek it elsewhere.
Be content with what you have, but not with what you
are.
I grumbled because I had no shoes, until I met a man that
had no feet.
Real joy is not common happiness, but rather a zest that
springs from an inner sense of peace even in the face of
conflict.
Criticism
How seldom we weigh our neighbor in the same balance
as ourselves.
He has the right to criticize who has the heart to help.
Instead of putting others in their place, put yourself in theirs.
Some of us would rather be ruined by praise than helped
by criticism.
A person who is rowing has no time to rock the boat.

Rudeness is a weak man’s imitation of strength.
Judging displaces love.
Critics are people who sit on the sidelines and utter snide
lines.
The mind is often like a car: if it begins to knock, it needs
an overhaul.
Faults are the easiest things to find.
A fanatic is someone who won’t change his mind to agree
with us.
When we criticize others, are we not honoring ourselves?
Devotions
He who has no time for God in the morning is not likely to
encounter him later in the day.
Anyone who only samples God’s word occasionally will
never acquire a taste for it.
Religion should be our steering wheel, not our spare tire.
Double-mindedness
Many people use religion like a bus: they ride it only when
it is going their way.
Many Christians are like pins, pointed in one direction but
headed in another.
Never look back unless that is the way you wish to go.
A person who leads a double life sometimes finishes it in
but half the time.
Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most pick
themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened.
Enthusiasm
Too many have the truth on ice, rather than on fire.
Every great and commanding moment in the annals of the
world is the triumph of some enthusiasm.
So long as enthusiasm lasts, youth is still with us.

Apart from enthusiasm, joy cannot live.
Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.
The largest cemetery may be where our unused talents lie
buried.
If we want God’s fire to burn in our hearts, we must cast
out yesterday’s ashes.
Failure/Success
Success is often more attitude than aptitude.
Excuses are the nails used to build the house of failures.
Collapse of the Christian life is seldom a blowout, it is
usually a slow leak.
Spiritual success requires consecration without reservation.
The dictionary is the only place where “success” comes
before “work.”
To win is not always success; to lose is not always failure.
Success is often failure wearing a fresh coat of paint.
It is better to try and fail, than to fail to try.
You cannot mend your way with the weak thread of excuses.
There is no failure save in giving up.
Sometimes the best gain is to lose.
A man can fail many times, but he isn’t a failure until he
begins to blame somebody else.
Organize victory out of your failures.
Only one person in the whole world can defeat you, and
that is yourself.
If at first you don’t succeed, you are running about average.
In great attempts it is glorious even to fail.
Failure takes endeavor, and endeavor persisted in is never
failure.
Nothing is all wrong: even a clock that has stopped is right
twice a day.
The best way to succeed in life is to act on the advice you
give to others.
Striving for success without hard work is like trying to
harvest where you have not planted.
There is nothing wrong in making mistakes, but don’t
respond to encores.
Failure is the only opportunity to more intelligently begin
again.
Our greatest glory consists not in never falling, but in rising
every time we fall.
Sometimes a noble failure serves the world as faithfully as
a distinguished success.
When you begin to think about defeat, the devil begins to win.
The only failure a man ought to fear is failing to stick to the
purpose he sees is best.
Silence is not always golden, sometimes it is just plain yellow.
Men do not stumble over mountains, but over molehills.
Failure is more often due to a lack of purpose than a lack
of talent.
Failure is found at the end of the path of least persistence.
Nothing is ever a total failure: it can always serve as a bad
example.
You can’t learn without mistakes.
If you have tried and failed, and you need a hand in yours
in the darkness of disappointment, you can count on mine.
Success isn’t how far you got, but the distance you traveled
from where you started.
There are no hopeless situations, there are only men who
have grown hopeless about them.
Two kinds of failures: the man who will do nothing he is
told, and the man who will do nothing else.
He who insists on standing alone will soon buckle from
weak legs.
Success usually comes to those who are too busy to look
for it.
The man who never makes mistakes loses a great many
chances to learn something.
The greatest success is to conquer self.

Experience is a wonderful thing: it enables us to recognize
a mistake every time we repeat it.
You do not get to your destination by looking in a rear-
view mirror.
Faith
When you can’t find a way out, look up.
The word “discouragement” is not found in the dictionary
of faith.
I discredit God’s name when I call him my Father but act
like an orphan.
When fear knocks on your door, send faith to answer it,
and you’ll find that there is no one there.
To wait on the Lord is to put your weight on his promises.
Those who see God’s hand in everything, always leave
everything in his hands.
You can never break God’s promises by leaning too hard
on them.
True faith sees the invisible, believes the incredible, and
receives the impossible.
Faith that is left unwatered will fade and die.
It is impossible to overdraw your account from faith’s
bank.
Faith is the best antidote for a fearful heart.
Where the Lord puts a period, do not change it to a ques-
tion mark.
Blessed is the man who digs a well from which another
may draw faith.
The eye of faith can always pierce the clouds of affliction
to see the sun beyond.
Faith is the grave of anxious care.
If you don’t scale the mountain, you can’t see the view.
Only he who can see the invisible can do the impossible.
If you must doubt, doubt your doubts — never your beliefs.
Does your faith move mountains or do mountains move

your faith?
The well of God’s promises is deep and full; it is the
buckets of our faith that we bring to it that are small.
The real victory of faith is to trust God in the dark.
The faith to move mountains is the reward of those who
have moved molehills.
Trust in the dark will bring triumph at dawn.
Quiet tension is not trust, it is simply suppressed anxiety.
Submission is a healing balm to the pain of trying experi-
ences.
The footprints of submission will always be seen in the
pathway that the faithful have traveled.
If your Christian appearance is sagging, what you need is
a “faith-lift.”
Faith is like radar that can see through the thick fog.
Fear
Fear of the past projected into today cancels out the reality
of the present.
Fear manufactures dust and static that causes interference
with good reception.
Fear is often the parent of dishonesty.
The fear of the unknown will keep us chained from prog-
ress and growth.
Self-consciousness often blocks the road on which we
would like to travel.
Self-consciousness sets up a high perimeter fence that
keeps others away.
Fear tosses sand into the workings of a relationship and
results in friction.
To avoid facing danger is to live in hiding with fear.
Fear always distorts our perception and confuses us as to
what is really happening.
Forgiveness
Christian forgiveness is like the sweetness given forth by
flowers when they are trampled upon.
He who cannot forgive others destroys the bridge over
which he himself must pass.
Christians should seek to remove from their memories the
sins that God has forgiven.
To understand all is to forgive all.
It is only the forgiving who qualify for forgiveness.
God forgives and buries our sins, then posts a sign: “No
digging allowed.”
A retentive memory may be a good thing, but the ability to
forget is a sign of greatness.
Forgiveness is rubbing out another’s mistake instead of
rubbing it in.
A coat of forgiveness cannot be worn over a coat of
resentment.
Friendship
A true friend will put a finger on your faults without rub-
bing them in.
Forget yourself for others, and others will never forget you.
Some friends are like your shadow: you see them only
when the sun shines.
The light of friendship is like the light of phosphorus, seen
when all around is dark.
The only safe and sure way to destroy an enemy is to make
him your friend.
A friend is one who knows all about you and still loves you.
Go often to the house of a friend, for weeds choke up the
unused path.
When a friend asks, there is no tomorrow.
The most I can do for my friend is simply to be a friend.
Great friendship is the hyphen between two minds.
Friendship that flows from the heart cannot be frozen by

adversity.
The best mirror is an old friend.
A friend is the one who comes in when the whole world
has gone out.
A friend is a person with whom you dare to be yourself.
Friends are those rare people who ask how you are — then
wait to hear the answer.
Gentleness
There is nothing as strong as true gentleness or as gentle as
true strength.
It is only imperfection that is not tolerant of what is
imperfect.
God
God often uses the smallest tools to perform the largest
tasks.
God without man is still God; man without God is nothing.
God is great in great things, but he is very great in little
things.
The universe is centered on neither the earth nor the sun.
It is centered on God.
All creation is an outstretched finger pointing to God.
Goodness
A saint is one who makes goodness look attractive.
There’s no limit to how much good you can do if you don’t
care who gets the credit.
Growth
There is precious instruction to be gained in finding we are
wrong.
I’m not what I want to be and I’m not what I should be, but
by God’s grace, I’m not what I used to be.
Spiritual stature cannot be acquired without growing pains.

All the flowers of tomorrow are in the seeds of today.
What I am to be I am becoming.
When saving for a rainy day, be sure to put away a few
pleasant thoughts.
When growth stops, decay begins.
A person shows where he is by what he does with what
he has.
Habits
Habit is a man’s best friend or his worst enemy.
Habit is like a cable: we weave a thread of it every day, and
at last we cannot break it.
Habits are first cobwebs, then steel nets.
The best way to break a habit is to drop it.
Happiness
Happiness often depends on the quality of our thoughts.
The best way to keep happiness is to share it.
If you see someone without a smile today, give them one
of yours.
A smile is a universally understood expression.
The only way on earth to multiply happiness is to divide it.
The really happy man is the one who can enjoy the scenery
when he has to take a detour.
Happiness is not mostly pleasure, it is mostly victory.
To be without some of the things you want is indispens-
able to happiness.
The most important thing you wear is a happy countenance.
To be happy ourselves is the most important contribution
we can make to the happiness of others.
Happiness is not a station you arrive at, but the manner in
which you travel.
To be of use in this world is the only way to be happy.
To get the full value of happiness you must have someone

to divide it with.
Many are on the wrong scent in their pursuit of happiness.
Unhappiness is not knowing what we want and killing
ourselves to get it.
A smile is a curve that can set a lot straight.
Happiness is often the result of being too busy to be
miserable.
Formula for personal happiness and fulfillment: seek the
happiness and fulfillment of others.
Be content with that which you have and are, be generous
with both, and you won’t lack for happiness.
Happiness is never stopping to think if you are.
Happiness is not having what one wants, but enjoying
what one has.
Helpfulness
Instead of pointing a faultfinding finger, hold out a helping
hand.
When it comes to helping others, some stop at nothing.
Do unto others as if others were you.
There will always be more power in the opened hand than
in the clenched fist.
We become rich through what we give and poor through
what we keep.
The highest kind of giving is done from the bottom of the
heart.
A song coupled with service makes a beautiful sermon.
Do what you can, where you are, with what you have.
God does not comfort us to make us comfortable, but to
make us comforters.
There is no better exercise for strengthening the heart than
reaching down to lift others up.
You can’t help a man toward the top of the mountain with-
out getting closer to it yourself.
What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for

each other?
Life is a steep grade and we should give others a lift when
they need it.
Help your brother across the rough waters and you are
stronger for the effort.
No one is useless in the world who lightens the burdens of
it for someone else.
The most beautiful hands are those which are found always
ready to help their fellow man.
The hand that gives, receives.
People are never so generous as when giving advice.
There is a big difference between advice and help.
Put the hay down where the sheep can reach it!
Honesty, Truthfulness
We should work harder at being what we should be, than at
hiding what we are.
There are no degrees of honesty before God.
Truth is as clear as a bell, but it isn’t always “tolled.”
Beware of believing a half-truth: it may be the wrong half.
Error needs support, truth stands alone.
It is often surprising to find what heights may be obtained
merely by remaining on the level.
The devil has many tools, but a lie is the handle that fits
them all.
It is better to suffer for speaking the truth, than that the
truth should suffer for want of speaking it.
Truth is not only violated by falsehood, it is equally slurred
by silence.
The naked truth is not indecent.
Basic research is what I am doing when I don’t know what
I am doing.
When you try to make an impression, the chances are that
is the impression you will make.
Stretching the truth won’t make it last any longer.
Hope
The ladder of hope has nothing to rest on here below, it is
held up from above.
There are no hopeless situations, only people who grow
hopeless about them.
The day of evil reveals to us the value of our glorious hope.
Put off the shadow from the brow; there is no night but
hath its morn.
No one is hopeless whose hope is in God.
A truly poor man is one who has no hope.
Humility
One of the things a man can do that lower animals can’t is
stand up before a crowd and put both feet in his mouth.
The only man who is always right is the one who knows he
also makes mistakes.
Be humble or you’ll stumble!
The taller a bamboo grows, the lower it bends.
The Christian’s highest place is lying low at the feet of
Jesus.
Humility is that low sweet root from which all heavenly
virtues shoot.
We tread life’s upper road when we walk humbly with our
God.
Humility is a strange thing: when you think you have it,
you haven’t.
The tree with the heaviest fruit hangs the lowest.
Those who travel the high road to humility are not troubled
by heavy traffic.
Influence
You are either leaving a mark on the world, or the world is
leaving its mark on you.
Our lives either shed light or cast shadows.

A person cannot teach what he does not know, nor lead
where he does not go.
Do we live our lives in such a way that we can say to our
children, “Go thou and do likewise”?
If you want your neighbor to know what Christ will do for
him, let him see what Christ has done for you.
He who reforms himself has done much toward reforming
others.
We often help to straighten out others when we walk
uprightly.
This I learned from the shadow of a tree: my shadow self,
my influence, may fall where I can never be.
You can always tell where the lamplighter has been by all
the lights that he leaves behind.
The candle not only shines on him who lights it but on all
within reach of its rays.
If your absence doesn’t make any difference, your presence
won’t either.
Those who cannot change their minds, cannot change
anything.
If you have an unpleasant neighbor, the odds are that he
does, too.
An ounce of example far outweighs a pound of advice.
Unused talents give you no advantage whatever over some-
one who has no talents at all.
When people think well of us, the first thing we should do
is look to see if they are right.
Jealousy
The fires of jealousy burn on, fueled by doubt and distrust,
consuming its possessor.
The jealous man sets before himself a banquet of doubt,
then feeds on its bitter nourishment.
Judging
We judge ourselves by what we feel we are capable of
doing; others judge us by what we have done.
Judging displaces love.
They condemn, who do not understand.
Kindness
Kindness is the oil that takes the friction out of life.
Christian kindness is love in working clothes.
He who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants
kindness gathers love.
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know
how soon it will be too late.
The milk of Christian kindness never sours.
Write injury in the dust, but kindness in stone.
Kindness or tact is the art of making someone feel at home
when you wish they were.
Leadership
If you never stick your neck out, you’ll never get your head
above the crowd.
Some leaders want sheep to shear rather than to care for.
Uprightness of character and tenderness of heart are pre-
requisites for those who would lead others.
He is not fit to lead who has not first learned to obey.
Behold the turtle: he makes progress only when he sticks
his neck out.
Liberty
Liberty is not the right to do as you please, but the freedom
to do as you ought.
To what avails the plow, or sail, or land, or life, if man is
not free?
No man is truly free if he cannot command himself.
Loneliness
Loneliness was the first thing that God pronounced to be
not good.
People who are lonely usually build walls instead of bridges.
Love
Love is never afraid to give too much.
Unless we run on love, we don’t run well at all!
Giving is the thermometer of love.
We may give without loving, but we cannot love without
giving.
Love can never be wasted, it always brings a big return — if
not in this life, then in the next.
True religion is love in action.
The best gifts are tied with heartstrings.
Love is the oil in the machinery of life.
Love is the communicated caring about the happiness of
others.
Where there is true love, there is no labor.
True love expects no return.
Love cures — it cures those who give it, and it cures those
who receive it.
Love gives freely, it cannot be bought.
We are shaped and fashioned by what we love.
Love that has its limitations will come to that end, but true
love has no end.
No cord or cable can draw so forcibly, or bind so fast, as
love can do with a single thread.
No disguise can long conceal love where it is, nor feign it
where it is not.
Love sees what no eyes see, and hears what no ears hear.
True love always flows outward.
They are the true disciples of Christ, not who know most,
but who love most.
Love makes even the unsightly beautiful to behold.

Our Lord cares not so much for our works, as for the love in
which they are done.
Love is not something you merely feel, it is something you do.
It is hard to express love with a clenched fist.
The comfort one finds on the less-traveled road of love is
found nowhere else.
Love never asks, “How much must I do?” but “How much
can I do?”
The time to really love others is when they least deserve it.
True love is helping someone who can’t return the favor.
All love triangles are “wreck-tangles.”
They do not truly love who do not show their love.
Love has reasons which reason knows not of.
Weathering the storms by loving is the only way to find
and enjoy the rainbows of life.
Love dictates that we focus our attention on the needs of
those we love.
True love demands that self be forgotten.
What we love, we shall grow to resemble.
To love is to find pleasure in the happiness of the person loved.
Service is love made visible.
Love’s store can never be depleted.
Patience
Patience is something you greatly admire in the driver
behind you, but not in the one ahead of you.
The secret of patience is doing something else while you
are waiting.
A mother’s patience is like a tube of toothpaste: it’s never
quite gone.
Perseverance
Trying times are the times to keep trying.
When the going gets tough, the tough get going.
A diamond is but a piece of coal that stuck to the job.

He didn’t know it couldn’t be done, so he went ahead and
did it.
If you knock long enough and loud enough at the door, you
are sure to wake someone.
We can do anything we want to if we stick to it long enough.
The quitter never wins; the winner never quits.
He conquers who perseveres and endures.
The will to persevere is the difference between failure and
success.
One thing at a time, and all things in order.
That which grows slowly, endures.
The man with push will eventually pass the man with
pull.
God will either lighten your load or strengthen your back.
Great works are performed not by strength but by
perseverance.
Prayer, Praise
Prayer releases one from the prison of fear, futility and
ineffectiveness.
A persons on his knees sees more than a philosopher on
tiptoes.
Prayer is the highest use to which speech can be put.
Prayer should be the key to our day and the lock to our
night.
If prayer doesn’t change things, it changes you.
When your knees knock, kneel on them.
The essence of prayer is to open self that God may come in.
Prayer connects us with the heavenly power source of
life.
A Christian usually runs the race best on his knees.
Prayer is the contemplation of the facts of life from the
highest point of view.
Do not face the day until you have faced God in prayer.
Prayer is an invisible communication line to heaven.
Productive prayer requires earnestness, not eloquence.
You’ll never get a busy signal when calling upon the Lord.
The best way to stand upright is down upon your knees.
The garment of joy that is not hemmed with praise will
soon unravel.
Pride
Only the foolish and the dead never change their minds.
The person who looks up to God will never look down on
others.
You are always in the wrong key when you sing your own
praise.
The bigger a man’s head gets, the easier it is to fill his
shoes.
Swallowing your pride will never give you indigestion.
Some people grow with responsibility, others just swell.
A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small pack-
age.
Be not like the cock who thought the sun rose to hear him
crow.
People put a low estimate on the man who puts too high an
estimate on himself.
The man who toots his horn the loudest is usually in the
fog.
He who falls in love with himself will have no rivals.
It’s strange, but a big head is a sign of a small man.
The man who thinks himself a big shot is already in line
to be shot down.
Blowing your own horn leaves you winded for the uphill
climb.
Pride must be swallowed, else it will choke you.
There is nothing so annoying as arguing with a man who
knows what he is talking about.
Blessed are the ignorant, for they are happy in thinking

they know everything.
Swallowing your pride is never fattening to your head.
Procrastination
There is no resurrection for opportunity that is lost.
If you have a hill to climb, waiting won’t make it smaller.
What a wonderful world it would be if we all did today
what we put off until tomorrow.
Reputation
Think little of what others think of you.
He who steals my purse steals trash; he who steals my
good name takes all.
One thing you can give and still keep is your word.
Righteousness
To be right with God has often meant to be in trouble with
men.
Better to want to do right than to be afraid to do wrong.
There is no right way to do a wrong thing.
It is easier to fight for principles than to live up to them.
A recognized fault is well on its way to correction.
Selfishness
Some people work hard, hoard all their money, and when
they are old they are able to buy the things only the young
can enjoy.
Sin
Man’s greatest ecological problem is pollution of the
heart.
The sin that blinds us the most is our own.
Those who begin telling “little white lies” soon find them-
selves colorblind.
If you don’t want to trade with the devil, stay out of his
workshop.
Neither inflation nor depression affect the wages of sin.
Before our sins can be put behind us, we must face them.
Someone who is green with envy will soon be ripe for
trouble.
The denial of sin is the devil’s chloroform.
To avoid forbidden fruit, stay out of the devil’s orchard.
As a moth gnaws at a garment, so envy consumes a man.
Thankfulness
The greatest sum in addition is to count your blessings.
Gratitude is the memory of the heart.
If we pause to think, we will have cause to thank.
He that enjoys without thanksgiving is robbing the giver.
If you can think of nothing for which to give thanks, you
no doubt have amnesia.
Gratitude is born in hearts that take time to count up past
mercies.
Thoughts
As one thinks in his heart, so is he.
A great many people think they are thinking when they
are merely rearranging their prejudices.
When someone gets lost in thought it’s probably because
it’s unfamiliar territory.
Change your thoughts and you change your world.
Time
You can’t turn back the clock, but you can wind it up again.
By killing time, we often murder opportunity.
Improve your time and time will improve you.
Time spent waiting on God is never wasted.
The sunrise never finds us where the sunset left us.
To most, the future is that time when you’ll wish you’d

done what you aren’t doing now.
Understanding
Those who dare to teach never cease to learn.
LORD, may I always have eyes that I may see and never pass
another’s calvary and think it just a common hill!
Be not disturbed at being misunderstood, be disturbed
rather at not being understanding.
Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an
understanding of ourselves.
Understanding is learning what you didn’t even know you
didn’t know.
Knowledge is the raw material on which understanding
feeds.
Wisdom
He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep, to gain what
he cannot lose.
A wise man is often known to change his opinion.
All signs on the road to wisdom read “keep to the right.”
You can often tell a wise man by the things he does not say.
Fools curse their mistakes, the wise profit from them.
Common sense is not a common commodity.
Wisdom is to know what is best worth knowing, and to do
what is best worth doing.
What a fool does in the end, the wise man does in the
beginning.
To admit that I have been in the wrong is but saying that I
am wiser today than I was yesterday.
To a wise man, the more he knows, the more he knows
that he knows very little.
Wisdom consists in knowing what to do with what you
know.
Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise.
From the errors of others, a wise man corrects his own.

Knowledge is proud that it knows so much, wisdom is
humble because it has so much to know.
Tact is the art of making a point without sticking it in
someone.
Wisdom is the accurate perception of what is really important.
I have lived in this world just long enough to look carefully
the second time into things that I was sure of the first time.
Reasons that sound good aren’t always sound reasons.
I grow old learning something new every day.
One thought driven home is better than three left on base.
If your mind should go blank, don’t forget to turn off the
sound.
Wisdom is knowing enough to keep your mouth shut when
you find yourself in deep water.
Witness
The greatest hindrance to witnessing is cold feet.
Men may doubt what you say, but they will believe what
you are.
If you have found knowledge, hold it up so others may light
their candles from it.
Words
Gentle words fall lightly, but they have great weight.
When facts are scarce, rumors abound.
To speak ill of others is often a dishonest way of praising
ourselves.
A careless tongue can equally run someone down as can a
motorist.
Gossip is like soft soap: mostly “lye.”
Why do you suppose that God gave us two ears but only
one mouth?
Words of praise, like gold and diamonds, owe their value
to their scarcity.
Be sure your brain is in gear before engaging your mouth.

It is better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool,
than to open it and remove all doubt.
He who gossips to you will gossip of you.
Better to slip with the foot than with the tongue.
Words spoken are the index of the heart and mind.
Strong and bitter words indicate a weak cause.
Blessed are they who have nothing to say and who cannot
be persuaded to say it.
Think all that you speak, but speak not all that you think.
Silence is one of the great arts of real conversation.
No sermon is dull that cuts through to the conscience.
The gossiper usually gets caught in his own “mouth-trap.”
It is better to choose what you say, than to say what you
choose.
Work
Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent
perspiration.
Your work is a reflection of your character: as you are, so
you labor.
Nothing is really work, unless you would rather be doing
something else.
Many people fail to recognize opportunity because it
comes disguised as work.
The armor of God is awkward equipment for one who sits.
The mode by which the inevitable comes to pass is effort.
The reason why most men do not achieve more is because
they do not attempt more.
Weak men wait for opportunities, strong men go out look-
ing for them.
No man who was properly occupied was ever miserable.
If there is a job to be done, ask the busiest person to take
it on.
Have your tools ready and God will find you work.
The highest reward for man’s toil is not what he gets for it,
but what he becomes by it.
Change your attitude and work will seem different.
Footprints in the sands of time were never made by sitting
down.
The reward of a thing well done is to have done it.
Everything comes to him who waits, if he works while he
waits.
Too many people today quit looking for work as soon as
they find a job.
It is better to wear out than to rust out.
The best way to kill time is to work it to death.
The best way to keep good intentions from dying is to
execute them.
When your work speaks for itself, don’t interrupt.
The man who says it can’t be done should not interrupt the
man who is doing it.
Doing little things with a strong desire makes them great
in God’s sight.
Nothing makes a person more productive than the last
minute.
People who do things that count never stop to count them.
Complete frustration is watching someone else do some-
thing that you just said could not be done.
Too many people are ready to carry the stool when the
piano needs to be moved.
Don’t wait for something to turn up, get a shovel and dig
for it.
Well done is better than well said.
Rust wear out more tools than overuse does.
Ideas are peculiar things: they won’t work unless you do.
No farmer ever plowed a field by turning it over in his mind.
If you want to leave footprints in the sands of time, wear
work boots.
It’s hard to climb up higher with your hands in your pockets.

Plan your work, then work your plan.
Worldliness
How empty is a life that is filled only with things.
It is hard to tune in to heaven’s message if our lives are filled
with earthly static.
If your life is a drag, worldly weights are probably to
blame.
The more we are attracted to Christ, the less we are dis-
tracted by the world.
It isn’t the ship in the water, but the water in the ship that
sinks it.
Those who dive into selfish, worldly pleasure always come
up with sand in their mouths, for it is so shallow.
Worry
Worry pulls tomorrow’s clouds over today’s sunshine.
Worry is a burden that a Christian was never meant to
bear.
A large number of us do mountain climbing over molehills.
Worry is unbelief parading in disguise.
You can’t get anywhere today walking in the mire of worry.
The load of tomorrow added to that of today is too heavy
for any mortal being.
Worry is the interest paid on trouble before it is due.
Worry brings on us today the misfortunes that may never
come.
A remedy for worry: Lift the gloom in another’s life.
Worry is like a mental tornado, or like a dog chasing his tail.
To carry anxious care to bed is like trying to sleep with
your backpack on your back.
To worry is not to trust.
I am an old man and have had many troubles, but most of
them have never happened.

Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps
today of its strength.
Tomorrow’s burdens were never meant to be borne with
today’s grace.
The cover is bound in ICG
Pearl Linen cloth on the spine
and Rainbow Antique paper
over the panels. The chapter
headings and selected text
titles were set in Deanna Script.
The typeface for the text is
Stempel Schneidler, with ITC
Goudy Sans for chapter titles.

Deep Waters

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Deep Waters

Uploaded by

Document Information

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Deep Waters

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

A COLLECTION OF A NECDOTES

Deep Waters and a Bubbling Brook

Trust in the LORD with all your heart

Don’t Quit Playing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Do not be Wise in your own eyes

How blessed is the man who finds Wisdom

5 The LORD will be your Confidence

Do not Withhold Good…

7 Take hold of Instruction; Do not let go

Watch over your Heart with all Diligence

Cheerfulness ........................ 126

I Love those who Love Me

The Lips of the Righteous feed many

It’s the Chords that Count. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223

Whoever loves Discipline loves knowledge

He who is Slow to Anger…

13 A Tranquil Heart is life to the body

The Hallelujah Chorus ................

A Joyful Heart makes a cheerful face

15 How delightful is a Timely Word

The LORD…hears the Prayer of the righteous

A Friend Loves at all times

Just a Short Way to Go Together ........ 317

A Joyful Heart is good medicine

A Good Camera . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341

Listen to Counsel and accept Discipline

Honesty, Truthfulness ................ 366

The Heart of a Lesson

H IS name was Bill. He had wild hair, wore a T-shirt with

Are You God’s Wife?

A boy about ten years old was standing in front of a shoe

The Secret of Service

D RUMMOND tells of a young woman whose life of sacrifice

Someone Who Understands

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted

The Hospital Room

T WO men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital

A Home for the Jonquils

I T was a cold night. I was mentally and physically tired

The Old Lamplighter

I was born in the great city of New York, in the borough

The Most Caring Child

A UTHOR and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once told of a

The Pickle Jar

A S far back as I can remember, the pickle jar sat on the

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the

A Lift in the Rain

L ATE one night in the 1960’s, an older black woman was

The Richer Reward

R EV. Louis H. Evans, in the Presbyterian Survey, describes

will be this man’s gratitude — and there can be no richer re-

I am told that the muscles of the face are capable of over

L ONG ago, or maybe not so long ago, there was a tribe in

Class Project: Smile!

T HE last class I had to take for my college degree was So-

laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman’s cold hand.

O NE day a teacher asked her students to list the names of

a wallet out of his pocket. “They found this on Mark when he

L ITTLE Molly was a bright-eyed, pretty five-year-old. One

“Well, then, give me your pearls.”