ly by itself and in relation
to the other words of the sentence. Follow this method of study until it
becomes a habit, and it will unlock to you rich storehouses of heavenly
truth. Your soul will find a feast wherever you go in the Sacred Book.
There is in every scripture a "kernel." Do not be content until you get it
out.

TALK FORTY-NINE. TWO SUNSETS

We stood on the brow of the hill gazing out over the valley beneath us. In
the distant west the sun sank quietly and serenely toward the horizon. The
purpling shadows of the hills grew longer in the valley. The clouds
overhead, which scarcely seemed to move, were in broken, fluffy masses. As
we gazed upon the scene, the sun as a mighty king in stately majesty and
resplendent glory sank to his evening repose. The clouds caught the
afterglow, looking as if a gigantic brush had swept across the sky
scattering gold and orange and crimson and purple. The sun had gone, but
the glory of his vanished presence still lingered in the beauty of the
clouds.

At the close of another day we stood on the same hill-top. The sun was
hanging low. The purpling shadows lengthened in the valley. The sun did
not sink in glory tonight, but passed out of sight into a bank of dark and
threatening clouds. The voices of the day were stilled. A solemn and
foreboding hush seemed over all, and our spirits felt the general gloom.
There was no afterglow. There was no resplendent painting of the sky. All
was somber and gloomy; nature seemed to await what would come, in
expectancy and awe. And as the darkness fell, we saw a gleam of lightning
play across the distant cloud.

How like the sunsets of some lives were these two sunsets! In my mind,
unfading while I live, are the memories of two life-sunsets. When but
seven summers had passed over my head, my little sister and I were at a
neighbor's two or three miles from home. In the early twilight a horseman
came galloping down the road bearing the fateful news that Mother was
dying. Quickly placing me behind him on the horse and taking my little
sister in his arms, he galloped away through the early night.

When we arrived at home, we found the house filled with neighbors. Upon
her bed lay Mother with pallid face. Through the hours of the night we
watched by her bedside. About three o'clock in the morning she asked them
to sing that old song "Shall We Gather at the River?" With choking voices
and tear-dimmed eyes the little band of neighbors