SOUL, YOUR
A very little girl, having received some dim impression regarding the soul, was asking her mother what it was. “Can you feel the soul, mother; can you hear it?” she asked, and then, “can you see it?” The mother answered that the soul could not be felt or heard, but that sometimes it seemed as if we could see it in the eyes. “Let me see yours,” said the little one, and gazing into the mother’s dear eyes she saw there the tiny image of herself, and exclaimed, “O mother, your soul is a little child!”
It would be profitable to all of us if we would ask ourselves this question, “Is my soul a little child?” (Text.)
(3021)
SOUNDS
Compared with the Western world, with its indescribable hubbub, Korea is a land of the most reposeful silence. There are no harsh pavements over which horses are tugging their lives out, no jostling of carts or dray-wagons, no hateful clamor that forbids quiet conversation, but a repose that is inherent and eternally restful. The rattle of the ironing-sticks is not nerve-racking, but rather serves as a soporific to put all the world to sleep. Apart from this, one hears nothing but the few calls and echoes of human voices. What a delightfully quiet land is Korea! In the very heart of its great city, Seoul, you might experiment at midday in the latest methods of restcure and have all the world to help you.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
(3022)
SOWING AND REAPING
Plant blessings, and blessings will bloom;
Plant hate and hate will grow;