christen them with
his own new name. "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast Thou
perfected praise." The resident youthful workers were called BUSY BEES.

Sweet society, precious children, your loving hearts and deft fingers
distilled the nectar, and painted the finest flowers in the fabric of
this history--even its centre-piece--Mother's Room in The First Church
of Christ, Scientist, in Boston. The children are destined to witness
results which will eclipse oriental dreams. They belong to the twentieth
century. By juvenile aid, into the building fund have come $4,460. Ah,
children, you are the bulwarks of freedom, the cement of society, the
hope of our race!

Brothers of the Christian Science Board of Directors, when your tireless
tasks are done--well done--no Delphian lyre could break the full chords
of such a rest. May the altar you have built never be shattered in our
hearts, but justice, mercy, and love kindle perpetually its fires.

It was well that the brother whose appliances warm this house, warmed
also our perishless hope, and nerved its grand fulfilment. Woman, true
to her instinct, came to the rescue as sunshine from the clouds; so,
when man quibbled over an architectural exigency, a woman climbed with
feet and hands to the top of the tower, and helped settle the subject.

After the loss of our late lamented pastor, Rev. D.A. Easton, the
church services were maintained by excellent sermons from the editor
of the _Christian Science Journal_ (who, with his better half, is a
very whole man), together with the Sunday school giving this flock
"drink from the river of His pleasures." Oh, glorious hope, and
blessed assurance, "it is the Father's good pleasure to give you the
Kingdom." Christians rejoice in secret, they have a bounty hidden from
the world. Self-forgetfulness, purity, and love are treasures
untold--constant prayers, prophecies, and anointings. Practice, not
profession,--goodness, not doctrines,--spiritual understanding, not
mere belief, gain the ear and right hand of Omnipotence, and call down
blessings infinite. Faith without works is dead. The foundation of
enlightened faith is Christ's teachings and _practice_. It was our
Master's self-immolation, his life-giving love, healing both mind and
body, that raised the deadened conscience, paralyzed by inactive
faith, to a quickened sense of mortal's necessities,--and God's power
and purpose to supply them. It was, in the words of the Psalmist,