For loneliness and shadow, sickness, care, For failure, doubt, remorse, death, and despair, For sleepless nights, for aching heart and brain, For common share in common human pain, I thank Thee, gracious God! Amen. MARGARET WENTWORTH. September 14 _In fallow fields the goldenrod And purple asters beck and nod. The milkweed launches fairy boats; In tangled silver the cobweb floats. Pervasive odors of ripening vine, Fill the air like a luscious wine. The gentian blooms on the browning waste; With coral chains is the alder laced. The blackbirds gather, and wheel and fly, The swallows twitter a low "Goodbye!"_ SARA ANDREW SHAFER. Father in Heaven, we love Thee, we cannot help it. Thy blessings around us on every side tell us of Thy love. Our love leaps involuntarily from our hearts responsive to these numberless delights. We thank Thee for the rich harvests that burden the fields, for the acres of beauty that reach over hill and through meadow, for the stars that make cheerful the night. Help us to bless Thee when the storms come to disappoint and destroy. May we realize that the tempest comes from the Good Father, that He has sent it, a great blessing in disguise. Great Father, help us to know and feel that everything coming from Thee is good. So may Thy Kingdom come to Thy children of earth. Amen. CHARLES EDWARD DAVIS. September 15 _Once, out of all the anguish and the sorrow of my heart, I wrote a song, and put my pent-up passion in its art. And the great world never heeded this soulful human groan, For it bore a burden infinitely heavy of its own._ _Once, out of all the happiness and joy within my breast, I made a little song and blithely sent it on its quest. And the great world, with its infinitely many joys, divine, Still had room and instant welcome for this little song of mine._ WILLIAM F. DIX. O God, I thank Thee that Thou hast numbered me with the children of the day. O Immanuel, make Thy Presence to be a sun within me this day. May I dispel clouds or reveal the rainbows ever half-hidden in robes of mists. May I melt snows and bring spring-time freshets of joy. May I shed light that shall turn groans into songs. May I shine on till I shall stand before the Great White Throne that is encompassed with an unbroken rainbow, and take up the angelic music among that starry host of souls who have found the true "music of the spheres," and are: "Forever singing as they shine, 'The hand that made us is divine.'" Amen. ELLIOTT F. STUDLEY. September 16 _All is best, though we oft doubt What the unsearchable dispose Of highest wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close. Oft He seems to hide His face, But unexpectedly returns, And to his faithful champion hath in place Bore witness gloriously._