O Thou, who makest things seen and temporal quiver and flash with Thine own informing spirit, so illumine our pathways that the Luz where we meet our duties may become the Bethel where we meet our God. As Thou dost clothe the lily with beauty and inspire the bird with song help us to grow into the beauty of holiness, and to know the joy of Thy salvation. Whatever our past, open our eyes this day to some better thing which Thou hast always in reserve. Teach us what hinders our attainment and help us burst through the barrier. Make us so conscious of Thy indwelling spirit that we may yield to its gracious impellings toward righteousness and peace and joy. Amen. THOMAS D. ANDERSON. May 10 _Listen to the exhortation of the dawn!_ _Look to this day! For it is life, the very life of life. In its brief course lie all the Varieties and realities of your existence; The bliss of growth, The glory of action, The splendor of beauty: For yesterday is but a dream, And tomorrow is only a vision, But to-day well-lived makes Every yesterday a dream of happiness, And every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well, therefore to this day!_ _Such is the salutation of the dawn._ FROM THE SANSKRIT. Dear God, in Thy loving kindness, Thou hast brought us to the opening of another day; from darkness to light, from sleep to wakefulness, from rest to labor. We thank Thee for its opening glory and its coming opportunities; but above all, for the new strength we feel within ourselves to do its work and live its life. As radiant dawn climbs to full-orbed day and glides to setting sun, may we come to this day's close with the consciousness that we have lived a little closer to the great heart of the Eternal in every thought, word and deed, that we have woven into the texture of our lives, and gently as twilight enfolds the fruitful earth, shall "peace that passeth understanding" enfold our souls. Amen. THOMAS B. PAYNE. May 11 _As the insect from the rock Takes the color of its wing; As the boulder from the shock Of the ocean's rhythmic swing Makes itself a perfect form, Learns a calmer front to raise; As the shell, enameled warm With the prism's mystic rays, Praises wind and wave that make All its chambers fair and strong; As the mighty poets take Grief and pain to build their song; Even so for every soul, Whatsoe'er its lot may be-- Building, as the heavens roll, Something large and strong and free-- Things that hurt and things that mar Shape the man for perfect praise; Shock and strain and ruin are Friendlier than the smiling days._ JOHN WHITE CHADWICK.