In the old days a father built a home for his family. It was complete in every part, but the altar around which they gathered in prayer was not yet set in place. The mother wished it in the kitchen; there she was perplexed with her many cares. The father wished it in his study: God seemed nearer to him among his books. The son wished it in the room where guests were received, that the stranger entering might see that they worshiped God. At last they agreed to leave the matter to the youngest, who was a little child. Now the altar was a shaft of polished wood, very fragrant, and the child, who loved most of all to sit before the great fire and see beautiful forms in the flames, said, “See, the fire-log is gone; put the altar there.” So, because one would not yield to the other, they obeyed, and the altar was consumed, while its sweet odors filled the whole house—the kitchen, the study, and the guest hall—and the child saw beautiful forms in the flames.—David Starr Jordan, “The Religion of a Sensible American.”
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ALTRUISM
There is in Cambridge, Mass., an elm-tree of moderate size, which has, according to the estimates of Professor Gray, a leaf surface of 200,000 square feet. This tree exhales seven and three-quarter tons of water every twelve hours. A forest of 500 such trees would return to the atmosphere nearly 4,000 tons in the same time.
Our lives should be like this tree, shedding their refreshment continually. (Text.)
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Good men are not meant to be simply like trees planted by rivers of waters, flourishing in their own pride and for their own sake. They ought to be like the eucalyptus trees which have been set out in the marshes of the Campagna, from which a healthful, tonic influence is said to be diffused to countervail the malaria. They ought to be like the Tree of Paradise, “whose leaves are for the healing of nations.”—Henry Van Dyke.
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