The following account of collection taken in the Baptist Temple in Philadelphia is interesting because of the spontaneity which seems to have marked the occasion, and the unselfish thought which was expressed by this "self-denial" day.
Christian Scientists
have been criticised from many different standpoints and for many alleged sins of commission and omission, but one of the most novel indictments yet brought against our people is that of a Congregational clergyman in an article contributed to his denominational paper.
Many
reports have reached us of "overflowing" Thanksgiving services, and it would be a pleasure, were it possible, in our limited space, to refer more specifically to them all.
In
sending back their blanks with office hours indicated, many practitioners have omitted to say whether they wish these hours to be announced in their cards or not.
Before I came into Christian Science I had been an invalid for years, but for the last seven years I have seldom had a pain or an ache, and now, after having passed the eightieth milestone, I am in perfect health, and after having used glasses for twenty years, I am now reading and writing without them.
I wish to express my heartfelt thanks for benefits received through a knowledge of Christian Science, gained by the earnest study of the Bible and Science and Health, also the periodicals of Christian Science.
Christian Science came to my notice almost ten years ago, and since that time the truth of its teachings has been slowly but steadily growing in my consciousness, until now it would be impossible to conceive of doing without it.
About fifteen months ago, when our baby was but a few weeks old, I was awakened one night by my wife, saying, "Send for the doctor, quick, the baby has an attack of croup and is choking to death.
I am beginning to see how selfish I am in receiving so much from the Sentinel and Journal, expecting to receive more all the time, and yet giving nothing in return, when my cup is full and running over with blessings.
The
raindrop trembles on the thirsty leaf;The first star sentinels the darkling sky;'Neath withered leaves the April violets blow;Along the west-wind breathes the heliotrope;And on the wave-washed sands of pain or grief—Fairer than raindrop or lone star on high,Sweeter than leaf—or wind-wooed bloom below—Lie Love's white pearls, Love's lustrous pearls of hope.
But to what avail have I a spirit separate from the men and women around me, if I must take my temper from theirs, be happy only when they are gay and serene only when they are kindly?
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