Two Worshipers. A Poem

Two Worshipers He sang about the meadow, grove, and stream, The sunsets and the silence of the star. He wove weird fancies in the twilight's gleam And soared into ideal realms afar. He wandered in the shadow of the wood, Exclaimed upon the vastness of the sea, But never thought of God to call him good. "Fair Nature's light is light enough," quoth he. Aye friend, in very truth these things some strength reveal Let each discerning heart clue admiration feel!

The other called each grace a gift divine, Sought Nature in rich sympathetic mood. He felt the slightest tremble of the vine. He prized earth's charms his own ideal good. In simple blessedness he sought to share His strong rejoicings in a psalm of love; In all things, read a meaning deep and rare

Which drew his spirit toward the Light Above. By faith he touched high heaven, kneeling there; He rose, and knew that God had heard his prayer. Minnie Iverson, honolulu, h. t.

Little Problems of Married Life/

BY WILLIAM GEORGE JORDAN

XVIII — The Incubus of Constant Faultfinding. Job, the patriarch of sublime patience, suffered many grievous trials and sorrows, ingeniously selected by Satan to compass his downfall, but he was mercifully spared one supreme test a wife — with a talent for nagging. It is true that his wife was indiscreet on one occasion and offered him some unwise advice, but this may have been only the impulsive outburst of her love, her loyalty, her sympathy, her protest, and that desperation we feel when we see some one we love suffer while knowing we are powerless to help. But she did not fuss, and fume, and fret, and fury, and find fault from dewy morn till darkening eve had she done so, samples of ;

her method would surely have been entered on the record. She must have been a wonderful woman, Job's wife, and she has never received the credit and honor she deserved. She won no medal nor no crown in history. She never made a single personal complaint her one emotional explosion was for her husband, ;

not for herself, yet she suffered the sudden death of her seven sons, the fortune swept away, the stealing of the cattle and the camels, the burning of the sheepfold, the murder of the servants, — and, in fact, everything that Job suffered except the boils and the three friends. It was not to her, but to this nagging visiting committee of three, that he cried out in agony of soul and righteous resentment and rebellion he could not restrain "Ye break :

me to pieces with words." Constant faultfinding is an intoxication of the tongue that has destroyed more homes than drink. It is an insidious evil, so innocent in the beginning, yet it may bring every other source of unhappiness in its trail, and two who have loved and should love may mourn over a dead happiness slain by discord that one or the other should have prevented by self-control. To keep the air of the home sweet, wholesome and life-giving does not require two angels or two saints, but just two human beings with sense enough to realize that nagging is foolish, unnecessary, cruel, and that it does not pay. In an atmosphere of constant faultfinding, real respect for each other soon dies, every good impulse is dwarfed, every effort discouraged, every spontaneity stifled, love is killed and, goaded to desperation, with misunderstandings multiplied beyond the bear-

copyright, 1910, by Fleming H. Revell Company.