The Man and the little girl watched the woman roll out the sugar cookie dough and carefully cut out the trees, bells and stars. The little girl remembered the stars--stars were her favorite. The Man often told the little girl that the woman thought of her and missed her.

"Can You tell her that I miss her, too?" she asked Him.

The woman continued rolling the dough and cutting out the cookies. The instrumental music echoed softly in the living room while she worked. Her memory filled in the words to the song:

For the beauty of the earth,
for the glory of the skies,
for the love which from our birth
over and around us lies;
Lord of all, to thee we raise
this our hymn of grateful praise.

The little girl tugged at His robe and persisted. "And if you told her I miss her, how would I know if she really heard you?"

The woman's thoughts drifted back to the last time she made Christmas cut-out cookies, so many years ago. She had a little helper then, who liked to mix the dough then lick the spoon.

For the joy of human love,

brother sister, parent, child,

friends on earth and friends above,

for all gentle thoughts and mild;

Lord of all, to thee we raise

this our hymn of grateful praise.

The little girl continued to watch as the woman cut out another star and hummed along to the music coming from the next room. The woman suddenly recalled how her little helper used to sing that song--part of a children's collection of hymns. It had been one of her favorites, that she always would half-sing, half-yell, "Lord of all to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise!"

The woman blinked back tears as she placed the next star on the cookie sheet.

The Man leaned down to the little girl and whispered in her ear as they watched the woman brush the tear away. "That's how you'll know."

For thyself, best Gift Divine,

to the world so freely given,
peace on earth, and joy in heaven:
Lord of all, to thee we raise
this our hymn of grateful praise.


For the Beauty of the Earth by Folliett S. Pierpoint