_The snow has capped yon distant hill, At morn the running brook was still, From driven herds the clouds that rise Are like the smoke of sacrifice; Ere long the frozen sod shall mark The ploughshare, changed to stubborn rock. The brawling stream shall soon be done-- Sing, little bird! the frosts have come._ OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, Thou art the giver of all good gifts, and all that comes from Thy hand is good. May we accept Thy providences. In the dreary days of winter as in the pleasant summer season, Thy mercies are new every morning and fresh every evening. Even when our hearts are chilled with grief and disappointment and failure, we would still put our trust in the eternal goodness. Help us, O God, to be truly grateful for everything that comes to us. In the winter of the soul may we learn the lessons of patience and resignation. Thus, with faith triumphant and with hearts full of gladness may we sing our songs of praise to Thy holy name forever and forever. Amen. ARTHUR W. GROSE. November 5 _It is will alone that matters! Will alone that mars or makes, Will, that no distraction scatters, And that no resistance breaks._ HENRIK IBSEN. _No man can choose what coming hours may bring To him of need, of joy, of suffering; But what his soul shall bring unto each hour To meet its challenge--this is in his power._ PRISCILLA LEONARD. Infinite God, Who perceivest the destinies of worlds and of men; Who bringest to pass all that we enjoy, and Who permittest all that we suffer; may I this day be enabled to recognize Thy Fatherly goodness, in the morning mists, even as in the noonday brightness! Should sorrow becloud my pathway, should disappointment make its keen thrusts, should temptation lay its attractive coils, may my soul be made aware of Thy consoling presence, enjoy the compensations of Thy grace, assert the potency of the wisdom from above! And mayest Thou reveal Thyself! So may be fanned to a flame the divine spark in my heart, whereby all are made partakers of the victory with and through our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen. ERNEST W. BURCH. November 6 _"Yes," she answered, lifting her eyes to his face; "I, too, have felt it, Hermas, this burden, this need, this unsatisfied longing. I think I know what it means. It is gratitude;--the language of the heart, the music of happiness. There is no perfect joy without gratitude. But we have never learned it, and the want of it troubles us. It is like being dumb with a heart full of love. We must find the word for it, and say it together. Then we shall be perfectly joined in perfect joy."_ HENRY VAN DYKE.