Articles

In the published words of one who claims to be teaching Christian Science we read: Some make the mistake of thinking that they must choose only such blessings as may be best for them; but the desire, in all instances, is a hint of the thing we ought to have. This cuts loose from all restraint, and leaves us wanderers in an unknown place at night without light, pathway, or guide.

The physical senses and their environment are supposed to constitute man a personality. As these senses are developed, they unfold his individuality.

What is it? Is it personality or individuality, a thing of mind or matter? Do the physical senses constitute it, or is it an idea of Soul? If material forms do not express it, and it be only spiritual, how can it be discerned or preserved, and how will individuals be recognized? Identity is included in the substance of Principle, which is constant radiation, and is reflected and expressed in the identity of individuals. Principle is infinite, and must be infinitely expressed; hence the multiplicity and diversity of individuals.

As the disciples sat with Jesus at the Passover they asked the question, Is it I? This they asked because he had spoken of treason among them. Our knowledge of the past is a present consciousness.

Dear Journal: I send you this clipping from The Boston Traveller. Please give it a place in your next issue, as a sign of the times.

The following story, from Alamo, Michigan, has been circulated in the dailies, and indicates a great danger for which few people are prepared. A young man, named Dwight T.

In the tenth chapter of the Gospel according to John, especially in the twenty-seventh verse, we find certain facts, which were not only true in the Master's day, but are verified and repeated in our own. Jesus had been teaching the Truth, which could come only through his spiritual understanding of God the Father.

In the southeastern part of New York, thirty miles from the famous metropolitan city, and situated on the banks of that beautiful river which has been so fittingly called the Rhine of America, is the little village of Haverstraw. Just beyond loom the peaks of the Catskills, like grim sentinels in gray, sleeplessly guarding the surrounding country.

[ From The New York Observer. ] " I wonder if there can be a pair of shoes in it?" Little Tim sat on the ground, close beside a very ugly and very dark-colored stone jug.

[ From The Congregationalist. ] I saw not long ago a peculiar seal-ring, one that a mother had made as a birthday-present for her son, who was away at school.