his imagination, found his extensive walks about Weimar a source of great inspirational profit. (Text.)—Bailey Millard, The Critic.
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WALKING WITH GOD
When a boy I remember distinctly seeing
my father at a long distance off
(almost as far as the eye could reach)
on a road on which we were all accustomed
to travel, as it was the highway to
a big city. The one thing that enabled me
to distinguish my father from other fellow
travelers on that road was his manly walk.
There was the graceful swing of the arm
and directness of step, with his toes pointing
in the right direction that quickly identified
him from other men.
In the moral and spiritual world we are known by how we step, whether we are stepping with God or away from Him.—R. S.
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Jeanette McMillan writes in this poem of a life's journey with God:
My plans were made, I thought my path all bright and clear,
My heart with songs o'erflowed, the world seemed full of cheer,
My Lord I wished to serve, to take Him for my Guide,
To keep so close that I could feel Him by my side;
And so I traveled on.
But suddenly, in skies so clear and full of light,
The clouds came thick and fast, the day seemed changed to night.
Instead of paths so clear and full of things so sweet,
Rough things, and thorns, and stones seemed all about my feet,
I scarce could travel on.
I bowed my head and wondered why this change should come,
And murmured, "Lord, is this because of aught I've done?
Has not the past been full enough of pain and care?
Why should my path again be changed to dark from fair?"
But still I traveled on.
I listened—quiet and still, there came a voice:
"This path is mine, not thine; I made the choice.
Dear child, this service will be best for thee and me
If thou wilt simply trust and leave the end with me."
And so we travel on.
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WANDERER'S RETURN
A widowed lady of mature life mourned
a runaway son who was lost to her for years.
Her sorrow had silenced her song, for she
was a cultured woman and an accomplished
vocalist. But during a visit at a distant
friend's home she was induced to sing at a
church service, choosing for her solo, "Where
is my wandering boy to-night?" and, of course,
sang it with much feeling; and after rendering
the second stanza:
"Once he was pure as the morning dew,
As he knelt at his mother's knee,
No face was so bright, no heart more true,
And none were so sweet as he,"
the congregation joined in the refrain:
"O where is my boy to-night?
O where is my boy to-night?
My heart o'erflows, for I love him he knows,
O where is my boy to-night?"
"Mother, I'm here," responded a young man away back, making his way sobbing up the aisle. Among the converts that night was this returning wanderer. The Rev. Robert Lowry is the author of the hymn and tune.
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WANT BRINGS PROGRESS
How paltry, worthless, small and scant
A world in which man knew not want,
Where no ungratified desire
Allured or drove him to aspire!
Then welcome world of toil and hope
Where every energy has scope!
Brothers, in God's great world rejoice,
And harken to His cheering voice
That calls man to the larger task
And gives him more than he could ask.
Let us in the assurance rest
That what God does is always best.
—Charles William Pearson, "A Threefold
Cord."
(3421)
War—See Armies of the World; Militarism; Navies of the World; Strategy; Tension, Moral.
WAR, AFTER EFFECTS OF
The Civil War lasted four years. The
number of those enlisted in the Union army
was 2,113,000. The number killed in action
