It gathers the doings of the day from the four corners of the world,
the tales of love and death, of fire and flood, of strife and
pestilence, and under eight thousand miles of shivering sea, whispers
the babble of two hemispheres.

It turns the wheels of peace where poor men toil, and helps the
husbandman to plow and plant and reap his whispering grain.

It rides the wings of war where brave men die; and when it stalks
between contending hosts, exalts the kingly crest and helps an empire
plant its flag of conquest.

It glows in lonely attics where weary workers toil to earn their
crust. It shines o'er scenes where feet of feasters tread the halls of
revelry. It lights the mourners on their pathway to the tomb. It
glares in haunts where jeweled ringers lift the cup of pleasure to the
month of sin, 'mid the sobbing of the sensuous music and flow of
forbidden wine; and speeding on its way illumes the dim cathedral
aisle, where surpliced priest proclaims the teachings of the master,
and golden-throated choirs lift their hosannas to the King of Kings.

It was the Maker's ally at the dawn of time, and when God from the
depths of infinite space, said "Let there be light," it sent the pulse
of life along creation's veins, baptized earth's cold brow with floods
of fire, and stood the sponsor of a cradled world.

SAM P. DAVIS.