"Beloved, now are we children of God, and it is not yet made manifest what we shall be.

We know that, if he shall be manifested, we shall be like him; for we shall see him even as he is.

And every one that hath this hope set on him purifieth himself, even as he is pure." "Wonderful the whiteness of thy glory; Can we truly that perfection share?
Yes; our lives are pages of thy story, We thy shape and superscription bear; Tarnished forms--torn leaves--but thou canst mend them, Thou thine own completeness canst unfold From our imperfections, and wilt end them-- Dross consuming, turning dust to gold." A drop of water lay one day in a gutter, soiled, stained, polluted.
Looking up into the blue of the sky, it began to wish for purity, to long to be cleansed and made crystalline.

Its sigh was heard, and it was quickly lifted up by the sun's gentle fingers--up, out of the foul gutter, into the sweet air, then higher and higher; at length the gentle winds caught it and bore it away, away, and by and by it rested on a distant mountain-top, a flake of pure, white, beautiful snow.
This is a little parable of what the grace of God does for every sinful life that longs and cries for purity and holiness..