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, Color and beauty disappear, Or turn to mother earth. The luscious fruits which please the taste And please the eye as well, Sometimes reduced to rot and waste, Ere from the tree they fell-- Some gathered with a gentle hand, And stored away with care, To serve a place in banquet grand, Some favorite peach or pear, Is found diseased in skin and core, And loathsome to the sight, When 'tis too late to gather more, And comes the festal night. So is it with all earthly joy-- It pleases for a time, As toy may please a growing boy, Though costing but a dime;