A woman was given a candle,
And she hid it away on the shelf.
"It is all I have," she murmured,
"And hardly enough for myself
So I must not let anyone see it,
But all through the coming night
I'll know it is ready and waiting
In case I should need the light."
Another was given a candle,
And she stepped out into the night.
"It is all I have," she murmured,
"I must make the most of its light.
There are hearts that are breaking somewhere,
There are lives that are sad and drear.
I must hurry along with my candle
To let them know it is here.
The two women met in the morning,
As the eastern skies grew red.
One came from her happy journey,
One came from her sleepless bed.
Each held in her hand a candle,
But the eyes of the one were sad:
"I could not light it, my sister,"
"Because it was all I had."
The other one made no answer,
But her face, in the sunrise glow
Looked like the face of an angel,
And she only whispered low:
"O Love divine, I thank Three!"
For she saw, now that night was gone,
She had lighted a thousand candles
From that poor little flickering one.
By Louise Knight Wheatley
Christian Science Journal, Oct. 1912
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