A little seed lay on the ground,
And soon began to sprout.
“Now, which of all the flow’rs around,”
It mused, “shall I come out?
The lily’s face is fair and proud, but a trifle cold.
Punching Holes in the Darkness
A young boy with his face to the window watched with fascination as an old lamplighter came down the street.
One by one he was lighting the old-fashioned gas street lamps....
Pat Moore is twenty-six. She lives in New York City and is a designer and manufacturer of special aids for senior citizens. Recently Pat was invited to speak to a special conference of professionals...
God Values Us Even When We Are Imperfect
Perhaps no composer captured the musical heart and soul of America as did Irving Berlin. He wrote God Bless America, Easter Parade, and White Christmas, which still...