We may be so situated that we can not do any great work in the world. By temperament, by education, or by reason of ill-health we may be restricted from carrying out our ambitious schemes, but there are none so weak, so ignorant, or so poor that they can not do some good in the world. The ladder that reaches to heaven is not composed of wooden rungs, or of cold, senseless material, but God has made every human being so dependent on his fellow-creatures that each one is lifted up by some one above him, some busy heart that feels another’s need and reaches out; and when there is no looking up nor reaching out there is no growth nor spiritual attainment. If you want to know people you must get near them; first go down to their level, and then bring them up to yours, not waiting for any great occasion, or a more direct revelation, but taking advantage of small opportunities, and making your influence felt in quiet, unobtrusive ways. “And when it is all over, and our feet will run no more, and our hands are helpless, and we have scarcely strength to murmur a last prayer, then we shall see that instead of needing a larger field we have left untilled many corners of our single acre, and that none of it is fit for the Master’s eye were it not for the softening shadow of the cross.” “It was only a cup of water, with a gentle grace bestowed, But it cheered a lonely traveler upon the dusty road; For the way was long and dreary, and the resting places few, And the sun had dried the streamlets and drank up the sparkling dew; None noticed the cup of water as a beautiful act of love, Save the angels keeping the record, away in that land above; But the record shall never perish, and the trifling deed shall live, For heaven demands but little from those who have least to give! “It was only a kind word spoken to a weeping little child, But the thread of its grief was broken, and the little one sweetly smiled; And nobody stayed to notice so tiny an act of love, Save the angels keeping the record in the wonderful book above. And she who had spoken kindly went on her quiet way, Nor dreamt such a simple action should count at the last great day. But the pitying words of comfort were heard with a song of joy, And the listening angels blessed her from their beautiful home on high. “It isn’t the world-praised wonders that are best in our Father’s sight, Nor the wreaths of fading laurels that garnish fame’s dizzy height; But the pitying love and kindness, the work of the warm caress, The beautiful hope and patience and self-forgetfulness; The trifle in secret given, the prayer in the quiet night, And the little unnoticed nothings, are good in our Father’s sight.”