As years go by, I continually reflect on the Sabbath days of my youth and young adulthood. I still remember the first day I passed the sacrament as a deacon, the little glass cups I passed to the members of our ward. A few years ago, a Church building in my hometown was remodeled. A compartment in the pulpit had been sealed. When it was opened, there were some of these little glass cups that had remained hidden for years. One of them was presented to me as a memento. I also remember the green footlocker we carried with us in the Marine Corps. Inside the footlocker was a wooden tray and package of sacrament cups, so that we could be blessed by the peace and hope of the Lord's Supper, even in the conflict and despair of war. As I think about these sacrament cups of my youth, one in the sheltered valleys of my boyhood at home and the other 1,000 miles away in the Pacific, I am filled with gratitude that the Savior of the world was willing to drink from the bitter cup for my sake. And because He did, I can say as the Psalmist, my cup runneth over with the blessings of His infinite and eternal Atonement.