( 109 ) 
Seat yourself, for instance, on a grassy bank of early summer—say, 
with a field of wheat before you, with, perhaps, an adjoining one of barley. 
All around you there are sure to be patches of wild-flowers;—pirn- 
pern a], and vetch, and speedwell, and blue-eyed forget-me-nots. 
And in the very midst of the green com, and in lovely contrast with 
its own verdure, are bright scarlet and crimson poppies— Nature in her 
bridal dress —the ruby blending with the emerald on her delicate finger; 
while not far distant, there is a background of gorse and broom, as if 
golden bracelets and necklaces and pendants, to complete her festal attire; 
butterflies, winged with purple and gold, wandering at will among colors 
bright as their own. But what is the value of these f Certainly, they are 
not useless; nothing is so in God's great and glorious world. Not a few 
of them are set there for their wealth of beauty; others are loading the 
summer air with their perfumes, like censers, swinging and scattering their 
odors all around. But they do not, mainly or significantly, suggest the 
lesson of utility which the green corn does. 
The posies of wild-flowers and their winged visitors supply luscious 
thoughts of their own; but the Green Ears are the indispensable and benefi¬ 
cent servants of the human family. They are growing into what is 
required to meet the urgent necessities of our physical natures—“bread 
which strengthened man’s heart.” 
My dear reader, seek, as “Green Ears,” to be useful— to do some¬ 
thing for God, and for the benefit of those around you. Try to stir some 
little ripples of kindliness and sympathy among the groups thronging 
through the vast fields that stretch before you. You are destined and de¬ 
signed not for ornament and show, but to do good to all as you may have 
opportunity of doing. 
God’s commending word at last is, “Well done!" —and it is to “the 
good and faithful servant” that it is to be addressed. 
