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Show EACH IX HIS OWN TONGUE By Wm. Herbert Carruth A fire mist and a planet, A crystal and a cell, A jelly, fish and a saurian, And caves where the near-men dwell; Then a sense of law and beauty. And a face turned from the clod, Some call it Evolution, And others call It God. A haze on the tar horizon, The infinite and tender sky, The rich, ripe tint of the cornfields, And the wild geese sailing high. And all o'er the upland and lowland The charm ot the goldenrod, Some ot us oall It Autumn, And others call It God. Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, When the moon ia new and thin, Into our hearts high yearnings Come welling and Burglng income in-come from the mystic ocean, Whose rim no foot has trod, Some ot us call it Longing And others oall it God. A picket frozen on duty, A mother starved for her brood, Soorates drinking the hemlock, A Jesus on the rood; And millions, who humble and nameless, The straight hard pathway trod Some oall It Consecration, And other call It God. J. W. Underhill, H. E. Beck, W. R. Black;J. P. Fidel, Fred Haumann, O. C. Thurher, and Geo. Croft all visited the Virgin Oil Fields last week, and found seven producing 672 gallons, and much favorable comment from Californlans. Brer James brought back a pear that ran two pounds on our scales' a big one surely. SCATTER SUNSHINE with Greeting Cards. |