Our Heavenly Father, the remembrance of Thee fills life with all that is most beautiful and bright. Our deepest sorrows, our most bitter experiences come when we forget Thee. No life can be a failure which strives to do Thy will. Sorrow may come to us, but just as an artist may darken a flower, in painting, before retouching it to make its color all the brighter, so we know that Thou, who givest color to the flowers, may for a season permit sorrow to darken our lives; but Thou art only in the midst of Thy work. At Thy retouch, life becomes the more beautiful. Help us to pray, not simply, "Lord, remember me," for it is not possible for Thee to forget Thy children; we pray "assist us to be always mindful of Thee." Amen. E. MCP. AMEE. September 19 _The sooner we read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest a little Eastern apothegm of Howard Hinton's the better: Two balls were together in a box, a gold and a gilt ball. The gilt ball was carefully done up in tissue paper, and securely wedged into one corner; but the gold ball was loose, and went rolling about with every movement of the box. "Oh, please, do take care of yourself!" said the gilt ball, peeping out apprehensively from the folds of the tissue paper. "Why, where's the harm?" answered the gold ball, as it took a fresh lurch to an opposite corner. "Oh, how can you?" cried the other; "you'll rub it off." "Rub what off?" asked the gold ball.... The gold won't rub off.... Only the gingerbread gilt._ ELLICE HOPKINS. Heavenly Father, we hear the loving call of this new day and on the wings of the morning we would speed to the work and worship of the beautiful hours Thou hast given us. We thank Thee that Thou hast made us for the hurry of the market place as well as for the quiet of the home. May our own lives be brightened by contact with our fellowmen. May the pure gold of the Spirit of Christ be ours in purity of personal thought, in the benediction of words of strength and sweetness and in the varied service we may render our neighbors in the name of Jesus our Lord and Saviour. Amen. JAMES F. ALLEN. September 20 _O heart of mine, we shouldn't worry so! What we've missed of calm we couldn't have, you know! What we've met of stormy pain, And of sorrow's driving rain, We can better meet again, If it blow!_ _For we know, not every morrow can be sad; So, forgetting all the sorrow We have had, Let us fold away our fears, And put by our childish tears, And through all the coming years, Just be glad._ JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.