God unchanging, and still the creator of the seasons, we look up to Thee, as the springtide works out the miracle of the resurrection from the sleeping forms of the past season, in confidence and in trust that ever Thou wilt bless us with a nobler, holier, sweeter, more wholesome life, as the seasons come and go. The resources of trusting hearts are always reinforced and reinvigorated by contact with Thy life, Thy power, Thy goodness and Thy love. Out of the winter of our discontent, we enter the springtime of love, that leads us forward in confidence through the glad summer of growth to the soul's fruition and the place of rest and peace in our Father's Home beneath Thine everlasting Love. Amen. FRANCIS A. GRAY. April 19 _One sound always comes to the ear that is open; it is the steady drum-beat of Duty. No music in it, perhaps,--only a dry rub-a-dub. Ah, but that steady beat marks the time for the whole orchestra of earth and heaven! It says to you: "Do your work,--do the duty nearest you!" Keep step to that drum-beat, and the dullest march is taking you home._ GEORGE S. MERRIAM. O Thou great impelling Spirit, whom we see manifest in all the world, as we open our eyes to the light of another morning, may we be as responsive to Thy influence as the sun and the flowers which brighten our way. May we be very sensitive to Thy promptings as we go about our day's work. May we be very quick to do the things Thou wouldst have us do. May we give ourselves to Thy service without reserve. When again the night shades draw about us, may our hearts be filled with deepest gratitude for all the experiences of the day, and, deep within, may our spirits be conscious of Thy approving benediction, "Well done, good and faithful servant; enter Thou into the joy of Thy Lord." Amen. FRANK LINCOLN MASSECK. April 20 _Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use._ SHAKESPEARE.