Ye sit not in the idol's temple. Ye build not to an unknown God. Ye worship Him whom ye serve. Boast not thyself, thou ransomed of divine Love, but press on unto the possession of unburdened bliss. Heal the sick, make spotless the blemished, raise the living dead, cast out fashionable lunacy.
The ideal robe of Christ is seamless. Thou hast touched its hem, and thou art being healed. The risen Christ is thine. The haunting mystery and gloom of his glory rule not this century. Thine is the upspringing hope, the conquest over sin and mortality, that lights the living way to Life, not to death.
May the God of our fathers, the infinite Person whom we worship, be and abide with you. May the blessing of divine Love rest with you. My heart hovers around your churches in Chicago, for the dove of peace sits smilingly on these branches and sings of our Redeemer.
First Church of Christ, Scientist,
Los Angeles, Cal.
Beloved Students: — Your kind letter, inviting me to be present at the dedication of your church, was duly received. It would indeed give me pleasure to visit you, to witness your prosperity, and “rejoice with them that do rejoice,” but the constant recurring demands upon my time and attention pin me to my post. Of this, however, I can sing: My love can fly on wings of joy to you and leave a leaf of olive; it can whisper to you of the divine ever-presence, answering your prayers, crowning your endeavors, and building for you a house “eternal in the heavens.”
