oin, our blessed Lord will take,
And skillfully will blend them with the coarser ore of earth,
And grander music none have heard e'er since time had its birth.
Then from this bell of silver tone will sound o'er hill and vale:
"The work men do in Jesus' name is never known to fail."

GOD'S ORDER

Every flower that decks the way,
Whether it be dun or gay,
Fills a place in God's great plan,
Serving Him, while pleasing man.
Every star that gilds the night
With its beams of silver light
Has its mission to fulfil,
As assigned it by God's will.

Feathered songsters all declare
As they cleave the ambient air,
"He who made us made our lays,
Giving each a note of praise;
Each one's note, unique and sweet,
Helps to make the song complete;
Various tones, yet all agree,
Forming one grand symphony."

So, also, does God's own hand
Fix in place each grain of sand,
Tiny though that grain may be
Hangs on it the destiny
Of a world, yea, systems whole,
As they in their orbits roll;
Should it from its globe remove,
Worlds would clash and chaos prove.

When we reach the world of mind
Law and order still we find;
In God's purpose is a plan
For the life of every man.
Free, he may his own course choose,
Help divine through pride refuse,
But disorder will ensue--
Life a wreck! Yet God is true.

INFLUENCE

In gentle showers the rain descends,
And softly falls the dew.
The dewdrop with the raindrop blends;
The tiny stream they form then wends
Its way the grasses through.

And kindred streams with it combine
And form a rivulet;
Then on it runs like trailing vine,
Lays bare the roots of oak and pine,
And other brooks are met.

The swelling stream meanders on,
Gives power to busy mills,
And bears huge ships its breast upon,
Gives drink to kine and lovely fawn,
And drinks up other rills.

A lady's foot had changed its course,
And drank it dry a lamb,
Had they but sought it at its source;
But now it rushes on with force
And leaps the mighty dam.

Thus is it with our influence here;
Each look, each word, each deed,
Is like the rain, or dewdrop clear--
Though tiny things they now appear,
They to the ocean lead.

As grains of sand make up the hill
Which towers above the plain,
And drops combine to swell the rill
Which helps the mighty sea to fill,
So does our influence gain.

UNDECAYING FRUIT

Doomed to decay are all things here;
Whate'er their form or worth,