Every man has been called for dominion. Each, in the divine plan, is to be a ruler in the universe, not a "mollusk with aimless revery;" he is to be a man with vitality, not "dead matter known only as avoirdupois." By this measure a man is not worth so much as a sheep which furnishes two substantial commodities--food and clothing. Minus the attributes which qualify him for a high rank, man is a being with a buried talent, only a unit in the great world around him. Plus these attributes, no system of mathematics can compute his worth. "Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market place, or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, 'This is my work; my blessing not my doom; Of all who live I am the one by whom This work can best be done in the right way.'" End of Project Gutenberg's A Fleece of Gold, by Charles Stewart Given