what a supernatural thing it would have been.  Christ made whole and useful a withered hand.  People say, “O, that I could do so wonderful a thing.”  Well, why don’t you.  See the withered hands around you.  A young woman with a beautiful voice, but no means to cultivate it.  You have a thousand or so in the bank?  You can save that voice to a world that needs song.  A young man with a fine mind, helpless to go thru college, you have means to give that mind to a world in power and usefulness.  The natural thing is for you not to do it, the supernatural, the miracle, is that you are divine enough to do it.  A man, a woman, is forsaken, friendless, cruelly judged by the world, their goodness blasted, their spirit crushed, their hearts bleeding, their lives made useless, withered.  The natural thing is to avoid such, stand aloof, be quite scornfully indifferent.  The miracle would happen if you went to them, lifted them up, restored them to society.  I have said avoid useless people, I mean selfish, lazy, purposeless, aimless people.  Sir Humphrey Davy worked a miracle when he took the boy Farrady out of a stable loft and gave him a chance to cultivate his genius.  The Sistine Chapel is Angelo’s miracle.  When the band on the deck of the Titanic, under the pale light of the morning stars played “Nearer My God To Thee,” to give hope and strength to men and women struggling to be saved, each player, as the voice of his melody was forever hushed behind the shining emerald gates, in the crystal tomb of the sea, went down crowned with the glory of a selfless miracle.  The natural thing would have been for them to have frantically fought to save themselves.  What superb opportunities to work miracles have passed you!  What magnificent possibilities are still right before you!  The cripple is always at your Gate Beautiful.  Are you divine enough, wonderful enough, marvelous enough, supernatural enough to say:  “Such as I have, give I unto thee”?  Do it quickly.  Do it, and you shall know daily the joy of hearing the Father say:  “This is My Son in whom I am well pleased.”

If there is any one person on this earth to whom I take off my hat and wait until they safely pass, it is a school teacher.  The most obscure teacher, back in the country hills, unknown, unthought of, unpraised, but with loving patience unfolding the secrets of knowledge to little frowzy headed boys and girls, can look into her mirror at evening and behold the face of an angel.

Flowers cast their wealth upon the vacant air, and rich fathers oft cast their wealth upon the vacant heir.

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Some people are so sensitive that if you call them “Honey,” they will break out with the “hives” the next morning.

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Do not divorce your husband because he has cold feet, perhaps he got them since you were married.

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