"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills," sang the Psalmist, "from whence cometh my help." The longing for help in solving the seeming problems of human existence is as old as mortals; and, intuitively, the seeker after help looks to a higher power for his assistance. For long centuires he has appealed blindly "to the unknown God" for something that would assist him, wondering in his despair why he need be so utterly without support. Through Christian Science he learns that an appeal "to the unknown God" accomplishes nothing, but that the declaration of the truth about God and man brings into his experience the good that he has honestly declared. He learns, also, that in the ratio that he is able to rise above the seeming falsities of so-called mortal mind, refusing to be a dumping ground for error's deceptions, to that extent not only does he heal his own ills, but he helps others. This ability can be gained only by gathering from our trials their blessings, and making the most of our opportunities to declare the allness of God.

Our human endeavors are beset by so many of the frailties of the flesh, and the arguments of evil, as they begin to be uncovered, seem so real, that it is assuredly a problem, many times, even to remember that there is a mountain top, let alone to reach it. It sometimes seems a weary road; and the heartaches along its winding distance are many. They spring up like weeds along the way, and their appearance is varied. The noxious growths of envy, jealousy, and hate; the unsavory ones of distrust and betrayal; and the flowerlike ones of hypocrisy and cant,—all attempt to cover up the path; to flaunt their unsavoriness, and make impure the sweet atmosphere of heaven; to wind their coarse tendrils around us, and trip us as we go. But of what avail? We may have to look a little harder to see the way, or we may have to declare a little more definitely that we live in "atmosphere of love divine." We may stumble a bit, and need to put our hands more trustingly into the Father's; but in spite of it all, we find the path and we walk in it, if we are honestly trying.

Having come through what seemed a long stretch of trying experiences, and having been apparently tested to the limit of human endurance, a young Scientist was one day speaking rather complainingly to an older worker, when the question was asked, "Did you ever watch a lily bulb unfold? It is not promising to look at, and it is planted in dark, damp earth; yet think of its beauty when it comes out. The unpromising outer bulb and soil were just what were needed to bring out the best in the lily. So it is with us sometimes. What difference, then, what the conditions are? Surely, the blessing of proving God's dominion makes our wilderness to 'bud and blossom as the rose,' as Mrs. Eddy sayson page 596 of 'Science and Health with key to the Scriptures.'" The worker also went on to point out the glimpses one gets on a railroad train of the desert flowers. Appearing here and there, sometimes in clumps, sometimes alone, the desert flower is often a lovely picture in its delicate beauty, and generally its tints are exquisite in their daintiness. What cares it for the wide expanse of desert sand? It is performing its part, breathing forth its beauty despite the aridness of its surroundings. So must we all learn to do.

In "The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany" (p. 171), Mrs. Eddy says, "Trust in Truth, and have no other trusts." This is unquestionably one of the hardest lessons to learn. Because of years of belief in a material world, we all trust to a greater or less degree in those around us. Then, as first one experience comes up and then another,—here an argument of disagreement, there a sense of separation, and somewhere else a belief of betrayal,—we learn to lean more closely on God, to turn more unreservedly to Him, to trust in His wisdom only. Sometimes this is hard to do; sometimes it seems well-nigh impossible to still the human sense that rises up in fear and resistance to choke our demonstration. But even so, supposing we do not make the most perfect demonstration that can be made? We make our demonstration according to the height of our understanding; and let us be grateful for that.

When one is climbing a mountain, his goal is the top, and he does not stop to worry about the rocks he stumbles over on the way. Had he been able to see every rock, he would, of course, not have stumbled; but he cannot always see them. They have such a way of hiding under the dust, or of so closely resembling the road that we do not realize they are rocks! But what of it? Do we not brush off the dust and keep on going? We should not approach the summit very fast if we sat down to weep over every stumble. That tendency of mortal mind must be cast aside, if we are going to press on. The passage through the Red Sea of materialism is not an easy passage. It seems occasionally as if the waters would surely engulf us, and fear seems almost to overwhelm us; but as we trust in God, and take each human footstep as we see it, sometimes putting our feet almost into the waters, they part before us and we are able to cross in safety. God is with us; He will not let us be engulfed, if we but become as little children, and meekly let Him lead.

An experience which came to a Christian Scientist who was endeavoring to do her small part, has held many a helpful lesson since its occurrence. She was seemingly placed where domination and injustice were about the only apparent rewards for the work she was trying to do. She did her part as best she could, with seemingly nothing but further injustice as the result. This continued for many weeks and months, during which time the battles with resentment, criticism, and a crying out against tyranny, were many and varied in their arguments and manifestations. She could not see any reason why such a situation should continue with no evident avenue of escape; but every step taken seemed only to make the situation worse instead of better. Wise human counsel was given, and it soothed the situation momentarily; but with it all, she knew that the problem was hers to solve. It was hers to be willing to take up the cross, hers to be willing to accept the cup and drink it to the dregs, if necessary. No human being could prove "Love to be the master of hate" (Science and Health, p. 44) for her—she must prove it for herself. So she struggled on, declaring and still declaring the truth, as the tides of injustice seemed to roll in,—that man is loving, that man is the expression of Love, that man is the image and likeness of Love, now. Finally, the most trying moment of all arrived; and when it had passed, she heard to her amazement the "still small voice" within saying, "Thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly;" and she knew then that the battle had not been waged in vain. She knew that the loving Father, conscious only of the good which had gained the ascendancy in her thought, would openly give her that peace which would enable her to carry on her part of the work just so far as it was needed. And she could afterward say gladly that she had been able to do this; able to go quietly ahead and work, leaving the result to God, conscious of His protective presence at all times.

Daniel in the lions' den was able to turn his back upon the lions, so conscious was he of the supremacy of the light of Truth which had filled his thought. And so it is with every traveler along the way of Christian Science. Trusting in Truth, we are guided over the rocks, across the chasms in the path, safely past the narrow places in the road, where fear lurks to cause a misstep—quietly, calmly, unweariedly, up to the mountain top of human endeavor, where we can stand rejoicing in the manifested allness of our God.