You shall remember all the way which The Lord your God led you. Memory is a wonderful power. It is a storehouse in which we keep the records of the experiences of our lives. An angel, with invisible ink, writes on a scroll the story of all our days, the things we do, the things of our thoughts. We make our memories for ourselves, writing our own records. The children are told that the murmuring they hear when they hold a shell to their ears is the echo of the sea’s moaning and roar, hiding away in the shell’s chambers from the days when it lay on the shore. The music we hear in our hearts, as life goes on, is the treasured echoes of our own life in the days that are gone. The practical suggestion from this is that if we would make our life–music sweet and harmonious, we must live beautifully, purely, unselfishly, helpfully. Sins of youth make bitter memories for after–years. The secret of a happy old age is a well–watched life from childhood. Any unguarded hour may leave a memory which will sadden all the after–years.