An immortal soul, from its very nature, cannot find what it needs anywhere except in God Himself. True religion begins in the heart. It is not a mere set of rules to be obeyed-an example to be copied. It is Christ coming into the heart and dwelling there.

A woman whose heart is not touched by the sickness of sorrow and whose hands do not go out in relief where it is in her power to help, lacks one of the elements which make the glory of womanhood.

A true home is one of the most sacred of places. It is a sanctuary into which men flee from the world's perils and alarms. It is a resting-place to which at close of day the weary retire to gather new strength for the battle and toils of tomorrow. It is the place where love learns its lessons, where life is schooled into discipline and strength, where character is molded.

Christ is building His kingdom with earth's broken things. Men want only the strong, the successful, the victorious, the unbroken, in building their kingdoms; but God is the God of the unsuccessful, of those who have failed. Heaven is filling with earth's broken lives, and there is no bruised reed that Christ cannot take and restore to glorious blessedness and beauty. He can take the life crushed by pain or sorrow and make it into a harp whose music shall be all praise. He can lift earth's saddest failure up to heaven's glory.

We can bear the heavy load without asking to have it lightened. We can keep the sorrow now and endure it. We can go on in quiet peace without the new blessing which we thought so necessary. We have not been saved from the battle we shrank so from entering, but we have sought and have gained the victory.

This world is not a place merely to live in, nor a place in which to do certain kinds of business; it is a great workshop in which to make godly men.

Thanksgiving is nothing if not a glad and reverent lifting of the heart to God in honor and praise for His goodness.