A GREAT many of our happiest days are connected with our childhood. It was so I know with myself, especially if I look back and remember the sunny days of July, when the meadows are at their brightest and best.
What a delight it was sometimes in the calm warm summer evenings, as we, a merry little group of playmates, wandered among the fields gathering the flowers into our pinafores—daisies, buttercups and cowslips—only to throw them away in a short time and gather others.
Happy childhood it is, indeed, if there is but the smallest knowledge about heavenly things. The beautiful flower-coveted hills and dales preach a little sermon to those who have ears to hear, “For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: but the word of the Lord endureth for ever."
May the little playmates of the present summer and its flowery fields, grow into future workers together as sowers and reapers in God's fields—yea, workers for Himself.