Nothing but a gentle,-',

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Nothing but a gentle, sympathetic soul

Let none say, "There is no work for me to do, in my 
limited and restricted sphere. I cannot aspire to a 
position of conspicuous usefulness. I am no Asahel, 
swift-footed in the race. I am dwarfed in means, 
destitute of all claims to intellect. I am but a 
common soldier in the great army—a mere hewers 
of wood and drawer of water."

Accept the assigned position. Never despise nor 
minimize "the power of littlest ." Do what you can. 
God asks no more, and expects no more. With Him, 
lowly work is worship. Only, what you do, do it 
heartily, cheerfully. Be not repelled by the smallness 
and insignificance of the mite you cast into the treasury. 

You can teach a child its letters. You can read to a poor 
invalid. You can carry a ray of sunshine with you into the 
hospital ward. You can send a posy of violets or rosebuds 
to the bedside of the invalid. You can give a word of heart
cheer to the struggling youth, and aid him in entering the 
stern battle of life. You can indite a letter of wise counsel 
and warning to the tempted child of poverty, and help to 
fetch back the prodigal from his or her wanderings. 

You can do the most Godlike and Christlike thing in the 
world—that which needs neither purse nor learning—
nothing but a gentle, sympathetic soul. In ministering 
to the broken and lacerated heart, torn, it may be, with 
bereavement too deep for tears, you can give "beauty 
for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment 
of praise for a spirit of heaviness." 

"Who has despised the day of small things?"

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