Help us, our Father, to know that we have here at hand all that we need to make this day what it ought to be; that we need not look afar, but in the duty of this present moment, in the opportunity to learn, to serve and thus to grow, which the morning offers, is all that is necessary to make this day sound and serviceable; in such a day we shall find enduring joy and from it Thou, the Giver of all days, wilt derive satisfaction, since it will do its full share in fulfilling Thy purpose. And may we see that if we make our todays what they should be Thou wilt take care of the tomorrows. Amen. HERBERT E. BENTON. September 27 _My neighbor hath a little field, Small store of wine its presses yield, And truly but a slender hoard Its harvest brings for barn or board. Yet tho' a hundred fields are mine, Fertile with olive, corn and wine; Tho' Autumn piles my garners high, Still for that little field I sigh. For ah! methinks no otherwhere Is any field so good and fair. Small tho' it be, 'tis better far Than all my fruitful vineyards are, Amid whose plenty sad I pine-- "Ah, would the little field were mine!" Large knowledge void of peace and rest, And wealth with pining care possest-- These by my fertile lands are meant. That little field is called Content._ ROBERTSON TROWBRIDGE. Heavenly Father, as prayed Thy servant of old, so we this morning repeat "Give us neither poverty nor riches." Help us this day, in whatsoever state we are, therewith to be content. May no complaining word proceed out of our mouths. Above all may no murmuring thought lodge within us. So shall we rest in peace with Thee, and God, even our God, shall bless us. Yet, O Lord, forbid that we should remain satisfied with any portion, which our best effort, with Thine assistance, can improve. Then shall we grow in grace and more and more approach the stature of true men and women, in Christ Jesus. Amen. M. EMORY WRIGHT. September 28 _Forenoon and afternoon and night--Forenoon And afternoon and night,--Forenoon, and--what? The empty song repeats itself. No more? Yea, that is life. Make this forenoon sublime, This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, And time is conquered, and thy crown is won._ EDWARD ROWLAND SILL. Help me, O Lord, if I shall see Times when I walk from hope apart, Till all my days but seem to be The troubled week-days of the heart. Help me to find, in seasons past, The hours that have been good or fair, And bid remembrance hold them fast, To keep me wholly from despair. Help me to look behind, before, To make my past and future form A bow of promise, meeting o'er The darkness of my day of storm. Amen. PHOEBE CARY. September 29