MAKE THE BEST OF YOURSELF.
THE preacher's voice was clear and intense. A young woman sat listening to whom life seemed a burden. As those words, "Make the best of yourself," flashed forth, she felt as though they were hurled at her. She make the best of herself! How could she? The rest of the sermon was unheard. It was as if a diamond had been thrown into her lap. That was all she needed. I said the sermon was unheard, yet there did enter into her consciousness another flashing sentence: "Every man has the right to make the best of himself." Had you been looking at the young woman, you would have seen a new and strange expression come into her face, just such a change as might come into the face of a dying man, if he should suddenly find the fabulous elixir of life. She leaned her head forward on the back of the pew before her and sat very still, but from her heart went up a cry, "Lord, help me to make the best of myself. Lord, I will make the best of myself, with thy help." At last came the benediction, and she rose up. Then as the congregation poured out, she followed with the crowd. Near the door stood an old, decrepit woman, in worn and shabby garments. Her hands were wrinkled and large-jointed. She was a shy, half-frightened woman, who had strayed into this large church and now stood back, half awed by its grandeur and the immense mass of people. Gail Bruce liked dainty people and dainty things of all kinds, and she shrunk with a horror from anything that was uncomely. But as her eye fell upon the old woman, she suddenly sent up a prayer, "Lord, help me to make the most of myself in all the humanities, in love, and in tenderness. And, Lord, bless that old woman." When Gail reached her, she stretched out her own well-gloved hand and touched the old woman's arm with a tenderness that thrilled her frame; then slipping her hand in hers, she said,— "We are glad to see you here, and hope you will come again." The old lady looked up with a pleased smile, and said it was a "fine church and she liked the minister." When Gail passed out, there was on her face a reflex gladness. Seeing it, several people unconsciously held out their hands to her, who, as a rule, only bowed. She went home, and, kneeling, said, "Help me to help others. Help me to do some kind deed every day. Help me to grow like Christ, so that I may be my best. Amen." That was the beginning of a great change in Gail Bruce. Every morning she took up the day with the prayer, "Lord, help me this day to do something for others! Help me this day to make someone happier! Help me this day to make the best of myself." Many a gentle answer she returned when her nervous temperament would have prompted a quick word. One little thing she tried to do especially—that was to carry a bright and cheery face; to give a pleasant word whenever she could. This was hard for her to do at first, for she possessed by inheritance an inclination to morbidness and melancholy. But she shook it off as best she could, and gave her "Good morning" or "Good evening" with a hearty grace and a pleasant countenance, even though the necessary effort cost her no little self-denial. But continued perseverance in little kindnesses wrought effectually upon her nature; and the change at every degree contributed to the answer of her prayer. And the effects of this change were not only visible in her own increased happiness, which was very great, so that life itself seemed a new thing, but they were also seen and felt in all around her. Harry, her twelve-year-old brother, suddenly ceased to "tease her life out of her" as he felt the warmth of her loving interest for him, and said to her after a long struggle with himself:— "Gail, I'm sorry I opened your letters and tied knots in your thread, and have done so many bad things; I begin to feel like trying to make a man of myself." And right there were all the old scores settled, and vows of eternal friendship mentally made. "Ask God to help you to make the best of yourself," were her parting words. And the heart which all these years had found so much time to fret over disappointments and personal grievances, was now filled with impulses of kindness, and led willing feet and hands to the lowly homes where shadows were lying, bringing sunbeams of mercy and hopefulness. She filled her place in the church. And, having taken up her neglected music, she soon relieved the Sabbath-school organist, who was sickly and overburdened, and the sweet tones of music as they swelled up from a heart full of love and gratitude went forth to cheer and gladden whoever they reached. Thus led and assisted by the grace and Spirit of the Master, almost imperceptibly her prayer was answered, and she learned to make the best of herself in the quiet way of common and every-day life.—Selected.