There were once two little sunbeams, starting out from the sun. Both were wondrously little, smaller than a cambric needle. Said one, “It’s of no use. I am too small ever to travel that immense distance and reach the earth. I’ll wait till I get bigger.” So that sunbeam stopped where it was, and waited. It waited, and waited, and it is waiting still, not a bit bigger than it was at first.
But the other sunbeam, small though it was, kept bravely on, as sunbeams are wont to do. And as it kept on, it grew. Longer and longer it stretched, flashing out, mile after mile, and thousands of miles, and millions of miles, and more miles than you can think, until at last the brave sunbeam reached the earth. It shone in on a poor sick woman, who was lying in bed, and it made her smile. And the earth turned a little, and it shone on a group of children at play, and they clapped their hands. And the earth turned around a little more, and it shone on an old man reading his Bible, and made the page glorious to him. And the world is still turning, and swinging new places around under the sunbeam, that stretches, small as it is, from the earth to the sun.
That’s the way it is with all little things. If they stand still, they will remain little forever. But if they start boldly out, doing whatever God wants them to do, shining just a little way ahead, and then a little way farther, why, it’s simply impossible to think how far they will shine, and how many lives they will make brighter, small as they are, before they are through.