Ah, friend, let us be true To one another! For the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain, And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night. --Matthew Arnold. We take care of our health, we lay up money, we make our roof tight and our clothing sufficient, but who provides wisely that we shall not be wanting in the best property of all--friends? --Ralph Waldo Emerson. Faithful are the wounds of a friend. --Proverbs 27. 6. Gracious Lord, fill my life with the spirit of love and sacrifice. I bless thee for the deep fellowships and tender intimacies; and on the eve of this Christmas ask thy blessing for all, as my heart rings with joy for those whom I love. Amen. DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH Christmas Day. Sir Isaac Newton born 1642. William Collins born 1721. Father Taylor born 1794. This is the month, and this is the happy morn, Wherein the Son of heaven's eternal King, Of wedded maid, and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring. --John Milton. Christmas is here; Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we; Little we fear Weather without, Shelter'd about The Mahogany tree. --William M. Thackeray. And the angel said unto them, Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all the people: for there is born to you this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. --Luke 2. 10, 11. Almighty God, I give honor and praise to express my joy for thy great love in the gift of thy Son, Jesus Christ. With a glad heart I wish all mankind "A merry Christmas," and may I ever remember, where the angels sang, "Peace on earth, good will toward men." Amen. DECEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH Thomas Gray born 1716. Mrs. Southworth born 1818. Stephen Girard died 1831. Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. Nor you, ye proud, impute to those the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. --Thomas Gray. Jehovah, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty; Neither do I exercise myself in great matters, Or in things too wonderful for me. --Psalm 131. 1.