Morning, everyone. How are you today? Time again for Moments of Melody. Well, said the barkeeper to his old customer, I see you've been to the revival meeting and given the evangelist your last nickel. Now you'll have to walk home. Yes, said the new convert happily, and many a time I've given you my last nickel and couldn't walk home." Billy Bray was digging potatoes, and the devil came along and uprated him on the small potatoes, said the devil. You say the Lord loves you, but look at those small potatoes he gives you. Listen, devil, said Billy. When I was serving you, I didn't have any potatoes at all. How much do we appreciate salvation? All to him we owe. O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the warmth my hands have weighed. I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder. out our universe is saved and make my son my savior god to me how great a war how great a war Oh, praise the Lord! Oh, praise the Lord! And now we're going to look at the Gospel according to St. Mark chapter fourteen. It was now two days to the Paschal Feast and the time of unleavened bread. And the chief priests and scribes were trying to bring Jesus into their power by cunning and put him to death. But not on the feast day, they said, or there may be an uproar among the people. And then while he was in the house of Simon the Leopard, Bethany, sitting at the table, a woman came in with a pot of very precious spiknered ointment, which, first breaking the pot, she poured over his head. There were some present who were indignant when they saw it, and they said among themselves, What did she mean by wasting the ointment so? This ointment might have been sold for three hundred pieces of silver, and alms might have been given to the poor. And they rebuked her angrily. But Jesus said, Let her alone. Why should you vex her? She did well to treat me so. You have the poor among you always, so that you can do good to them when you will. I am not always among you. She has done what she could. She has anointed my body beforehand to prepare it for the burial. I promise you, in whatever part of the world this gospel is preached, the story of what she has done shall be told in its place to preserve her memory. We give thee but thine own, whatever the gift may be, All that we have is thine alone, a trust, O Lord, from thee.