this morning,
Humble worms of the dust, imploring thy blessing.
We beseech Thee to forgive our transgressions,
Heal our backsliding, and love us freely."

Sometimes from there on it changed a little, but it always began and
ended exactly the same way. Father said Brother Hastings was powerful
in prayer, but he did wish he'd leave out the "worms of the dust." He
said we were not "worms of the dust"; we were reasoning, progressive,
inventive men and women. He said a worm would never be anything except
a worm, but we could study and improve ourselves, help others, make
great machines, paint pictures, write books, and go to an extent that
must almost amaze the Almighty Himself. He said that if Brother
Hastings had done more plowing in his time, and had a little closer
acquaintance with worms, he wouldn't be so ready to call himself and
every one else a worm. Now if you are talking about cutworms or
fishworms, father is right. But there is that place where--"Charles
his heel had raised, upon the humble worm to tread," and the worm
lifted up its voice and spake thus to Charles:

"I know I'm now among the things
Uncomely to your sight,
But, by and by, on splendid wings,
You'll see me high and bright."

Now I'll bet a cent THAT is the kind of worm Brother Hastings said we
were. I must speak to father about it. I don't want him to be
mistaken; and I really think he is about worms. Of course he knows the
kind that have wings and fly. Brother Hastings mixed him up by saying
"worms of the dust" when he should have said worms of the leaves.
Those that go into little round cases in earth or spin cocoons on trees
always live on leaves, and many of them rear the head, having large
horns, and wave it in a manner far from humble. So father and Brother
Hastings were both partly right, and partly wrong.

When the prayer came to a close, where every one always said "Amen," I
punched Bobby and whispered, "Crow, Bobby, crow!" and he stood up and
brought it out strong, like he always did when I told him. I had to
stop the service to feed him a little wheat, to pay him for crowing;
but as no one was there except us, that didn't matter. Then Hezekiah
crowded over for some, so I had to pretend I was Mrs. Daniels feeding
her children caraway cake, like she always did in meeting. If I had
been the mother of children who couldn't have gone without things to
eat in church I'd have kept them at home. Mrs. Da