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THE YOUNG SOUTHERNER All communications and contributions intended for this department should be addressed to Mrs. Louise T. Hodges, 83 East Avenue, Atlanta, Ga. A Trinity. Love strong as life my soul enthralls And holds me in a spell divine, It thrills each fibre of my heart And there distills life’s rarest wine. Faith firm as God’s eternal hills Upholds me through each passing hour It leaves no place for fear or doubt, And earth can give no fairer dower. Hope bright as evening’s golden star When sunlight fades from gold to gray, Shines ever in my firmament And is my spirit’s constant stay. Love, faith and hope, sweet trinity, What can life give of richer store? Faith, hope and love, immortal three, Dwell in my heart forevermore. L. T. H. We are inclined to smile at the simplicity of the old deacon who in his prayer said: “Lord you know what is right and best to do, now do it,” or we may be shocked at the seeming lack of reverence, but if we consider a little we will find that the simple words contain the elements of true prayer—obedi ence and faith. Commanded to pray and feeling that in his ig norance he might pray amiss, and believing with all his heart in God’s absolute wisdom, goodness and power, the old deacon made his simple petition which, to my mind, contains no irreverence. It may not be a model prayer but was no doubt more accep table than many wordy efforts Fug drawn out for the edification of men. With Correspondents. I know Lena McD. is having a pleasant time in watching the farmers prepare for their crops, and feeding her chickens, gathering eggs, etc. I hope she will tell us more about farm life. I assure “One of the boys” that we shall be glad to have him call to see us at the Golden Age office when he comes to Atlanta, and I hope he will one day realize his ambition to become an edtior. An interesting letter from Baker (I cannot recall the first name) of West Point has been mislaid, con sequently of course cannot be published. I hope she will write again. Dear Editor:—The letters from the boys and girls, in The Young Southerner, have interested me very much. Some of the boys are afraid that we girls will “beat” them but I think they write as good letters as the girls. Out here in the country the farmers are plowing and getting ready to plant the crops. I think it is pleasant to see the plows turning up the fresh earth. It looks easy but the men say it isn’t so very easy. Some of them get the rows very straight, but the boys who are just learning, get them crooked sometimes. I think it is nice to live in the country and have chickens and cows and gardens. I suppose the peo ple in town can’t have them very much, but then they have other things, street cars, etc., that we don’t have in the country. If you will publish this letter I will write again. Your true friend, LENA MCD. Conducted by Louise Threete Hodges. Cartersville, Ga. Editor Young Southerner: I see that several boys have written to you and I will write a few lines. I think the people up here like The Golden Age very well. Mr. Sam Jones lives here, and we like to hear him preach and we like to read what he writes. When I go to Atlanta I would be glad to go up to The Golden Age office and see you all. Do you allow boy visitors? I think I would like to be an editor myself when I grow up. It must be very nice work. I am going to a picnic before long and if I see anything interesting. I will write and tell you about it. I hope The Golden Age will live long and prosper, and that we all will be benefitted by it. Very truly, ONE OF THE BOYS. 1 To carry one’s Christianity into every day life, is the very essence of “Christian Citizenship,” for no man can truly lay claim to good citizenship who worships God on Sundays and then proceeds to bury his conscience in his every-day intercourse with his fellow man. Indeed, Christian citizenship is the backbone of civilization, and only when it attains its highest stage of development, will humanity see the dawning light of the “Golden Age” and the “Ideal Government” becomes a lasting reality.— Young People’s Advocate. A Scripture Directory. For the blues, read the twenty-seventh Psalm; for an empty pocketbook, the thirty-seventh; if people seem unkind, read the fifteenth chapter of John; if one is losing confidence in men, the thir teenth chapter of First Corinthians; if discouraged about one’s work, the one hundred twenty-eighth Psalm; if tempted to see one’s self larger and the ■world smaller all the time, the nineteenth Psalm; if one can not have one’s own way in everything, the third chapter of James; and if one is all out of sorts, the twelfth chapter of Hebrews should be read.—Selected. A Failure. He cast his net at morn, when fishers toiled, At eve he drew it empty to the shore; He took the diver’s plunge into the sea, But thence within his hands no pearls he bore. He ran a race, but never reached his goal; He sped his arrow, but he missed his aim, And slept at last beneath a simple stone With no achievement carved about his name. Men called it failure; but for my own part, I dare not use that word, for what if heaven Shall question, ere its judgment shall be read, Not “bast thou won,” but only “hast thou striven?”’ ■—Unknown. To My Son. Do you know that your soul is of my soul, such part, That you seem to be fibre and core of my heart? None other can pain me as you, dear, can do; None other can please me or praise me as you. Remember the world will be quick with its blame If shadow or stain ever darkens your name. “Like mother, like son,” is a saying so true, The world will judge largely of “Mother” by you. Be yours then the task, if task it shall be, To force this proud world to do homage to me; Be sure it will say, when its verdict you’ve won, “She reaps as she sowed, 10, this man is her son.” —Exchange. The Golden Age for April 12, 1906. Here are some excellent rules written for chil dren, but some of which we think some grown-ups might bear in mind. They are reminders:— Not to wet the fingers with saliva in turning the Not to wet the fingers with saliva in turning he leaves of a book. Not to put pencils into the mouth or moisten them with the lips. Not to put money into the mouth. Not to put anything into the mouth except food, drink, and tooth-brush. Not to swap apple cores, candy, chewing-gum, “all-day suckers,” heals-eaten food, whistles or bean blowers, or anything that is habitually put in the mouth. Teach the children to turn the face aside when coughing and sneezing, especially if they are fac ing another person or at the table. Teach children to wash the hands and face often. Children should be taught their bodies are their own private possessions, personal cleanliness is a duty, the mouth is for eating and speaking, and should not be used as a pocket, and the lips should not take the place of fingers. Death. Within an upper chamber she was laid Her white hands folded on her quiet breast, Her form, so recently in colors drest, Arrayed in purest white. About her head The pansies she had loved were loosely spread, And though her look and attitude spoke rest, We sobbed and son-owed who had known her best, One saying to another: “She is dead!” But ah, at heaven’s gate they said not so! For those who left us long since, there to roam, Were ’waiting her, their eager hearts aglow To know her spirit soared among them, sweet and low They made annunciation: “She has come!” —MARGARET A. RICHARD. The Lost Key. The key of yesterday I threw away, And now, too late, Before to-morrow’s close-locked gate Helpless I stand—in vain to pray! In vain to sorrow! Only the key of yesterday Unlocks to-morrow. —Priscilla Leonard. Content to come, content to go, Content to wrestle or to race, Content to know or not to know, Each in his place. Lord, grant us grace to love thee so That glad of heart and glad of face At last we may sit high or low, Each in his place. Where pleasures flow as rivers flow, And loss has left no barren trace, And all that are, are perfect so, Each in his place. —Christiana Rossetti. In the clear light of eternity the false selves that we have wrought about us like a garment will shrivel and fall away. Whatever we really are, that let us be, in all fearlessness. Whatever we are not, that let us cease striving to be. If we can’t rid ourselves of all untruths of word, manner, mode of life and thinking, we shall rid our lives of much rubbish, restlessness, and fear. Let us put on nothing, and we shall never cringe. Let us assume nothing, and we shall not be mortified.—Anna Robertson Brown, 11