"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.

Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.

Divine Service
May 12, 1923

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.