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Rh The chimes on the Christian Science temple in Boston played “All hail the power of Jesus' name,” on the morning of the dedication. We did not attend, but we learn that the name of Christ is nowhere spoken with more reverence than it was during those services, and that he is set forth as the power of God for righteousness and the express image of God for love.

We all know her — she is simply the woman of the past with an added grace — a newer charm. Some of her dearest ones call her “selfish” because she thinks so much of herself she spends her whole time helping others. She represents the composite beauty, sweetness, and nobility of all those who scorn self for the sake of love and her handmaiden duty — of all those who seek the brightness of truth not as the moth to be destroyed thereby, but as the lark who soars and sings to the great sun. She is of those who have so much to give they want no time to take, and their name is legion. She is as full of beautiful possibilities as a perfect harp, and she realizes that all the harmonies of the universe are in herself, while her own soul plays upon magic strings the unwritten anthems of love. She is the apostle of the true, the beautiful, the good, commissioned to complete all that the twelve have left undone. Hers is the mission of missions — the highest of all — to