_There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood Touch of manner, hint of mood; And my heart is like a rhyme, With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time._ _The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry Of bugles going by. And my lonely spirit thrills To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills._ RICHARD HOVEY. O Father, my heart is lonely till I feel Thy spirit near, and then the glory of the season brings a message to my soul. Help me now to see Thy master hand in the great beauty of the world. May my soul that feels the glad riot of color know that he who gives such beauty and bounty has for me far richer blessings in the great fields of the future. May this day, begun with Nature's rhythm be set with the music of holy purpose and noble service. And may the music sound not alone for me, but for others that we together may march forward in the spirit of Him who loved the lilies of the field and the fowls of the air. Amen. CHARLES E. VARNEY. October 17 _Thousands of years ago a leaf fell on the soft clay, and seemed to be lost. But last summer a geologist in his ramblings broke off a piece of rock with his hammer, and there lay the image of the leaf, with every line and every vein and all the delicate tracery preserved in the stone through those centuries. So the words we speak and the things we do today may seem to be lost, but in the great final revealing the smallest of them will appear._ JAMES RUSSELL MILLER. Our Father we thank Thee for the light of this new day. Tenderly Thou hast withdrawn the curtain of the night and shown us the beauties and glories of Nature, reminding us of Thine own blessed verdict in the dawn of creation, "Behold they are very good." Good indeed, is it to live in such a world, and we thank Thee for our being. We ask this morning, dear Lord, not for the perishing things of earth, but for continued power and disposition to enjoy Thee and Thy works, for a faith that never wavers and a hope that never grows dim, for such a portion of this world's goods as the wise may enjoy without harm and the righteous hold without wrong. Amen. JAMES SALLAWAY. October 18 _Nay, I wrong you, little flower, Reading mournful mood of mine In your looks, that give no sign Of a spirit dark and cheerless: You possess the heavenly power That rejoices in the hour, Glad, contented, free and fearless,-- Lifts a sunny face to heaven When a sunny day is given; Makes a summer of its own, Blooming late and all alone._ HENRY VAN DYKE.