p. 14 | THE LOWER LIGHTS

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Nov 15, 1905

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 31, No. 46.

THE LOWER LIGHTS.

"I DON'T believe I'll go to church to-day," said Ruth one Sunday morning at the breakfast table. "Somehow I don't feel like it, and nobody will ever know the difference whether I'm there or not."

"My dear," said Aunt Margaret, "I've often heard you singing, 'Let the Lower Lights Be Burning.' I wonder if you know the story that suggested it?"

"No," answered Ruth, "I never so much as heard that there was one."

"Some years ago a steamer in a terrific gale was trying to make the harbor of Cleveland, Ohio. There were two lights at the entrance of the harbor, one, the upper light on the bluffs of the shore; the other, the lower light on a bar at the other side of the entrance. The pilot peered out anxiously to catch a glimpse of the friendly lights, and presently caught sight of the upper one. But that alone was not sufficient; he must also see the other to know just where to go. But for some reason it was not lighted on time. Beaten by wind and wave, the steamer staggered on as best she could, while the hearts of all on board trembled with fear. If she missed the entrance there was little hope of her escaping the rocks. Suddenly the lower light appeared, but, alas! it was too late—the steamer had missed the entrance, and in the attempt to turn about went down with all on board."

"I suppose," said Ruth with a laugh, "you mean that even if I am the most insignificant member of our church, and sit on the very back seat, it is my duty to be in my place?"

"You remember George Eliot's poem of the violin maker, who said that if he did not make the very best violin possible for him to make, God would miss the music? If we are not each one of us faithfully doing our duty, be it small or great, there is silence or discord where there might have been music. More than that, our lives are bound together—we must needs lift up those about us or drag them down. We are bidden to sow our seed at all times, for we know not whether shall prosper either this or that, or whether both shall be alike good. The cobbler, as I once heard a minister say, could not paint a picture, but he could tell Apelles that the shoe tie was not right, and so might help toward making the beautiful picture perfect."—Zion's Herald.