As the water drops of the storm-clouds are transfigured by the
sunlight into rainbows, so the lowliest work is transfigured
by thoughts of God shining through it. So it was with the old
negro washerwoman who sang, as she climbed the stairs wearily at
night after her hardest day, “One more day’s work for Jesus.” So
it was with the Christian child in the mission Sunday-school,
who was asked, “What are you doing for Jesus?” and replied, “I
scrubs.”
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