“OH, we had a splendid sermon today about lights," said Lucy.

"What kind of lights?" Andrew asked.

Before Lucy had time to reply, Jimmy interrupted with, "I guess I know. Wasn't it about Drummond-lights? That is the biggest light in the world. If I were going to preach about lights, of course it would be about the biggest."

"Drummond-lights were mentioned, but only mentioned among the many kinds of light."

"Then I don't believe that it was a very good sermon," said Jimmy.

"Yes, it was a very good sermon. The text was, 'Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in Heaven.'"

"Well, doesn't that mean to let a very bright light shine before men?"

"If we can; but supposing we are only small men and women, or even children, do you think that we should refuse to shine, because we cannot give as much light as the largest?"

"I'm sure I don't," said Mary. "I should think a little light was better than none."

"Certainly," replied Lucy," and so a good part of the sermon was about rush-lights."

"Rush-lights? What are they?" "They are the cheapest kind of a candle. 

Mrs. Middleton told me about them once. She came from England, and the poor people in some parts of England make these rush candles, because they can afford no others."

"But what are they?" "Be patient, and I will tell you. Do you know what a bulrush is?"

"Yes, it grows in water."

"Well, these poor people gather the bulrushes, and take off the bark, except a narrow strip on each side to hold up the soft white pith that's going to be the wick of the candle. Then they dip it in tallow, and let it cool, and then dip it again, and cool it until it won't bear any more; and then the candle is ready to light."

"But what a little bit of a wick that must be for a candle."

"Yes; and this little bit of a candle gives very little light. But it is better than no light in a cottage. A rush-light in a room keeps it from being all dark, and the poor people move it about from place to place in the room,--to see what they want to see most."

"Why, it is like a little star, isn't it? "

"Yes; and think what a blessing it is to these poor people, who would be all in the dark without it."

"But what has that to do with a sermon?"

"Don't you see? We children, and a good many grown people in this world, are only little rush-lights. We can't do great deeds, but we can all do little ones. A smile, a pleasant word, a kind act, are each a little light sent out into the darkness."

"We might any of us do as much as that, to let our light shine," said Andrew. 

Do you think, Lucy, that it is by such little things that we can glorify the Father in Heaven?"

"Yes, certainly. That was what our minister told us today. Christ said, 'Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit.'"

"But if we children are, every hour of our lives, pleasant, and smiling, and kind, it doesn't seem to me that we shall make much impression on the darkness. We are such little lights."

"So is the rush-light a little light; but it does its work in the place where it is set, and means as much there as the star does in the night sky. No one star could make the night beautiful; but the many together, each shining in its place, and doing the very best that it can, make all the heaven glorious, and the earth glad for their light. 

So the many kind acts, or loving smiles, or tender words of the many little children may make beauty and joy everywhere, and the Father in Heaven be truly glorified. 

Let us all then do our very best to be as fair rush-lights as we can, and all the dark will be lightened."