Help us, O Thou who art the Lord of life, that we may this morning praise Thee for the beauty of the world and for the joyful privilege of wandering in the green fields and by the sparkling brooks, and of resting tired body and weary limb beneath the sweet orchard shade, gazing with gladdened eyes at the blue canopy above, all forgetful of the toil and din of the far off city. O may our hearts this day be in tune with nature and in harmony with Thyself; and as we contemplate Thy works this and every day may our hearts go out in loving and practical sympathy toward those whose lives are spent within the narrow confines of sunless courts. Hear us for the Saviour's sake. Amen. FRANCIS W. BRETT. June 29 _Give us, O give us the man who sings at his work. Be his occupation what it may, he is equal to any of those who follow the same pursuit in silent sullenness. He will do more in the same time--he will do it better--he will persevere longer. One is scarcely sensible of fatigue while he marches to music. The very stars are said to make harmony as they revolve in their spheres. Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, although past calculation its power of endurance. Efforts to be permanently useful, must be uniformly joyous--a spirit all sunshine, graceful from very gladness, beautiful because bright._ THOMAS CARLYLE. Almighty God, we turn to Thee in adoration and praise as we pause upon the threshold of this new day. Grant, we pray Thee, that a song be in our hearts as we go about the duties of the passing hours. Whatever our experiences, whether of joy or sorrow, may we truly value the truthful spirit. If Thou callest us to bear burdens or to stand upon the mountain top of exultant achievement may we not forget to sing of Thee. Yea, O God, we would be ever of the company of trusting souls, for such are near to Thee. And when earthly days are past and the life of the freed spirit is over, grant that our lives may blend in full accord with the music of love, in sunshine of joy, in the beauty of holiness. We praise Thee now and ever. Amen. STEPHEN H. ROBLIN. June 30 _Full-leafed in pride of deepest green, The earth in the sunshine basks serene, Where linden blossoms crowded cling, A thousand bees are murmuring. As showers drift from the freshened land With a seven-barred bow is the rain-cloud spanned. The wild rose yields her subtlest scents Where hay cocks pitch their fragrant tents. The longest day's too brief for June, The night too short for such a moon!_ SARA ANDREW SHAFER.