Georgia Willis, who helped in the kitchen, was rubbing the knives. Somebody had been careless and let one get rusty, but Georgia rubbed with all her might; rubbed, and sang softly a little song—
“In this world of darkness;
We must shine,
You in your small corner,
And I in mine.” [Jesus Bids Us Shine, Susan B. Warner, 1868.]
“Why do you rub at those knives forever?” asked Mary. Mary was the cook.
“Because they are in my corner,” Georgia said brightly.
“ ‘You in your corner,’ you know, ‘and I in mine.’ I’ll do the best I can, that is all I can do.”
“I wouldn’t waste my strength,” said Mary. “No one will notice.”
“Jesus will,” said Georgia; and then she sang again—
“You in your small corner,
And I in mine.”
“Cooking the dinner is in my corner, I suppose,” said Mary to herself. “If that child must do what she can, I suppose I must. If Jesus knows about knives, it is likely He knows about dinners.” And she took particular pains.
“Mary, the dinner was nicely cooked today,” Miss Emma said.
“That’s all because of Georgia,” said Mary, with a pleased face; and then she told about the knives.
“No,” said Emma to her friend who urged, “I really cannot go this evening. I am going to prayer meeting; my ‘corner’ is there.”
“Your ‘corner’? What do you mean?” Then Emma told about the knives.
“Well,” the friend said, “if you will not go with me, I will go with you.” And they went to the prayer meeting together.
“You helped us ever so much with the singing this evening.” That was what their pastor said as they were going home. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be there.”
“It was owing to our Georgia,” said Emma; “she seemed to think she must do what she could if it were only knives.” Then she told him the story.
“I believe I will go in here again,” said the minister, stopping before a poor little house. “I said yesterday there was no use, but I must do what I can.” In the house a sick man was lying. Again and again the minister had called, but the invalid would not listen to him; but tonight the minister said, “I have come to tell you a little story.”
Then he told him about Georgia Willis, about her knives and her little corner, and her “doing what she could.” The sick man wiped the tears from his eyes, and said, “I will find my corner, too; I will try to shine for Jesus.”
“I believe I won’t go to walk,” said Helen, hesitatingly. “I’ll finish that dress of Mother’s; I suppose I can if I try.”
“Why, child, are you here sewing?” her mother said. “I thought you had gone to walk.”
“No; this dress seemed to be in my ‘corner,’ so I thought I would finish it.”
“In your ‘corner’?” her mother repeated in surprise; and then Helen told about the knives.
The doorbell rang, and her mother went thoughtfully to receive her pastor. “I suppose I could give more,” she said to herself, as she slowly took out the money she had laid aside for missions. “If that poor child in the kitchen is trying to do what she can, I wonder if I am. I’ll double it.”
But Georgia knew nothing about all this. She had let her light shine; and others, seeing her good works, had with her glorified the Father in heaven. Jesus, looking down at her that day, said, “She hath done what she could”; and He gave the blessing.
Dolphins, True Education Series, 24–26.