hat
messenger, in what form, "cometh down from above, from the Father of
lights." All the blessings of Providence, all the tender things that
come to us through human love and friendship, are God's gifts.

"Whence came the father-heart in man,
The mother-heart in woman?
The love throughout the cosmic plan
Which makes God's children human?

"These never came: what we control
Is good because 'tis given,
And all made better to man's soul
By the sweet touch of heaven."

We owe thanks to God, therefore, for all that we receive. When we have
shown gratitude to our human benefactors, we still owe our Heavenly
Father thanks and gratitude. It is possible, too, for us to be
grateful to the friends who help us, and yet be as atheists, never
recognizing God, nor giving him any thanks. This is the sorest sin of
all. We rob God, and hurt his heart, every time we receive any favor
at whatsoever hand, and fail to speak our praise to him.

Whatever we may say about man's ingratitude to his fellow-men, there is
no question about man's lack of gratitude to God. We are continually
receiving mercies and favors from him, and yet, are there not days and
days with most of us, in which we lift no heart and speak no word in
praise? Our prayers are largely requests and supplications for help
and favor, with but little adoration and worship. We continue asking
and asking, and God continues giving and giving; but how many of us
remember always or often to give thanks for answered prayer? The angel
of requests--so the legend runs--goes back from earth heavily laden
every time he comes to gather up the prayers of men. But the angel of
thanksgiving, of gratitude, has almost empty hands as he returns from
his errands to this world. Yet ought we not to give thanks for all
that we receive and for every answered request? If we were to do this
our hearts would always be lifted up toward God in praise.

There is a story of some great conductor of a musical festival suddenly
throwing up his baton, and stopping the performance, crying,
"Flageolet!" The flageolet was not doing its part and the conductor's
trained ear missed its one note in the large orchestra. Does not God
miss any voice that is silent in the music of earth that rises up to
him? And are there not many voices that are silent, taking no part in
the song, giving forth no praise? Shall we not quickly start our
heart-song of gratitude, calling upon