Who can measure the dynamic force of one small life, or even of its smallest act? Verily, he that plants faith and hope in one brave heart and summons it with trumpet call to the lofty labors of the rolling years, has borrowed creative energies from the treasuries of God and throned eternal might to rule again among the skies! The Days. Day-time and night-time, Bright and black weather, Life-song and love-song Blended together! Sorrow's an exile At Joy's high endeavor; Tears for a moment, Then laughter forever! Little Sermons. A bowl of hot soup is sometimes more christian than a cup of cold water. Even a bald-headed man can be a prophet. There was Elijah, for instance, whom the bears revenged. Patience is sometimes imposed upon. Job not only had great suffering, but his friends lectured him about his sins. Spring is the creative season of the world. Then all the creatures of earth and air, of sky and sea, find their well-loved mates, and though the individuals pass away, the pair grows all immortal in the children of their love. When the Birds Come Back. When the birds come back! When the birds come back! There's a call of rolling music for the lonely hearts that lack, And across the hills and valleys that have silent been so long There's a lilt of love and laughter and a rhapsody of song; And the cares that brought the sorrows and the shadows bleak and black Hide away their gloomy faces, when the birds come back! When the birds come back! There's a sky of sweeter blue, With the breezes blowing softer and the blossoms peeping through; There's a daisy in the meadows and a green upon the trees With a welcome for the songsters and their swelling melodies; And the pleasures trip the measures and their happiness unpack Over all the waking wood-lands, when the birds come back! When the birds come back! Ah, the wonders of the spring And the blossoms that are longing for the choruses they sing! And the roses that are sleeping through the darkness of the night Till the love-song calls and summons to the lover and the light! Then we sail the seas of laughter, though the tempests lower black, As the blossoms greet the morning, when the birds come back! When the birds come back! Ah, the days of heaven when All the songs shall sing forever down the perfect ways of men, And the lilies and the roses in the fields of death and doom Shall engarland all the path-ways with the bright of bud and bloom! What if long the wait and watching? What if sky and sun are black? Songs and blossoms come to meet us, when the birds come back!