body, that raised the deadened conscience, paralyzed by inactive
faith, to a quickened sense of mortal's necessities,--and God's power
and purpose to supply them. It was, in the words of the Psalmist, He
"who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases."

Rome's fallen fanes and silent Aventine is glory's tomb; her pomp and
power lie low in dust. Our land, more favored, had its Pilgrim Fathers.
On shores of solitude at Plymouth Rock, they planted a nation's
heart,--the rights of conscience, imperishable glory. No dream of
avarice or ambition broke their exalted purpose, theirs was the wish to
reign in hope's reality--the realm of Love.

Christian Scientists, you have planted your standard on the Rock of
Christ, the true, the spiritual idea,--the chief corner-stone in the
house of our God. And our Master said: "The stone which the builders
rejected the same is become the head of the corner." If you are less
appreciated to-day than your forefathers, wait--for if you are as devout
as they and more scientific, as progress certainly demands, your plant
is immortal. Let us rejoice that chill vicissitudes have not withheld
the timely shelter of this house, which descended like day spring from
on high.

Divine Presence, breathe Thou thy blessing on every heart in this house.
Speak out, oh, soul! This is the new-born of Spirit, this is His
redeemed, this, His beloved. May the Kingdom of God within you--with you
alway--re-ascending, bear you outward, upward, Heavenward. May the sweet
song of silver-throated singers, making melody more real, and the
organ's voice as the sound of many waters, and the Word spoken in this
sacred Temple dedicated to the ever-present God--mingle with the joy of
angels and rehearse your heart's holy intents. May all whose means,