We thank Thee, our Father, for the wonderful world in which we live; for the glory of the heavens; for the beauty of the earth; for the bright morning following the star-crowned night; for the song of birds, the hum of bees, the fragrance of flowers, and the laughter of children, for the industry of men and women, for all Thy gifts of love. As again the lengthening shadows creep across our pathway, may we redouble our energies that no labor of love may be left undone. So fill us with Thy presence, so lead us by Thy Spirit this day, that in our homes we may be patient, in our occupations sweet, in our social relations brotherly, in all things Christlike, for Jesus' sake. Amen. ARTHUR WRIGHT. July 1 _Let me go where'er I will I hear a sky-born music still: It sounds from all things old, It sounds from all things young, From all that's fair, from all that's foul, Peals out a cheerful song._ _It is not only in the rose, It is not only in the bird, Not only where the rainbow glows, Nor in the song of woman heard, But in the darkest, meanest things There alway, alway something sings._ _'Tis not in the high stars alone, Nor in the cups of budding flowers, Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, Nor in the bow that smiles in showers, But in the mud and scum of things There alway, alway something sings._ RALPH WALDO EMERSON. Dear Father in heaven, we thank Thee for all the sweet voices of the world, not only for the harmonies of the great masters of song but for the sweet voice of the mother as she sings her song of love, for the bird in the spring time. We thank Thee for the music in the prattle of children, and the kindly word spoken everywhere. The world is full of music if only we have music in our own hearts. We pray, as we set forth again this morning, for spirits in tune with all that is sweet and good. Wherever we go this day, let the world sing to us and make us glad. Amen. GEORGE L. PERIN. July 2 _A little bird with plumage brown, Beside my window flutters down, A moment chirps its little strain, Then taps upon my window-pane. And chirps again, and hops along, To call my notice to its song; But I work on, nor heed its lay, Till, in neglect, it flies away._ _So birds of peace and hope and love Come fluttering earthward from above, To settle on life's window-sills, And ease our load of earthly ills; But we, in traffic's rush and din Too deep engaged to let them in, With deadened heart and sense plod on, Nor know our loss till they are gone._ PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR.