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Oh, fold up the morning paper

Who cares for the news of town?
But what are the violets doing?

Has the jonquil made her gown
To wear through the gay spring hours

So mindful of her looks?
Come, give me the news of the flowers,
The grass, and the trees, and brooks !

Louise Morgan SILL.

Heavenly Father, we thank Thee for the gospel of the great outdoors. Help us to make friends of the flowers and take counsel of the skies. When the sun shines and the birds sing and the winds blow and the blue of the heavens arch above, how petty and mean seems all the gossip of men.

O Lord, help us to learn that Nature is Thine. Speak to us, we pray Thee, through its myriad voices. When we are tired and stale and unprofitable, let us go forth into the open in the spirit of prayer, assured that the kiss of the wind is a benediction from Heaven. Amen.

GEORGE L. PERIN.

Methought I saw a robin's wing

Among the budding trees !
What need of chilly lingering

Mid wintry reveries,
When life is at the edge of spring ?

FLORENCE CONVERSE.

Yes, spring has come! I too must wake
And with the birds glad music make.
Sweet flowers God's smiles are everywhere,
And why should I dark visage wear ?
Nay, I'll give thanks, rejoice and sing,
And thus fulfil th' eternal spring.

A. GERTRUDE HULLEY.

The cheer of the robin's song and of the budding flowers makes gladness in our hearts, O loving Father. For us there may be a perpetual springtime, blessed Lord. Committing our ways unto Thee, Thou orderest our paths. Therefore we know that whatever is is best. Some of us are old. The snows of many winters lie on our heads; our senses are shut in like buds in January, and the cold winds whip the leafless trees. Yet when we are conscious of their handclasp, the pulses of youth thrill anew in our veins, the sleeping faculties awake, the robins sing, and bud and leaves and flowers proclaim a spiritual springtime and prophesy the resurrection to life eternal, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

DAVID H. MOORE.

The sweetest lives are those to duty wed,
Whose deeds, both great and small, are close-knit strands
Of an unbroken thread; where love ennobles all.
The world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells,
The book of life the shining record tells.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

The timid hand stretched forth to aid

A brother in his need,
The kindly word in grief's dark hour,

That proves a friend indeed.
The plea for mercy softly breathed,

When justice threatens high;
The sorrow of a contrite heart,
These things shall never die.

CHARLES DICKENS.

Father in Heaven! Guard us, as in the past night, so in this day just opening. We bring our souls to Thee, that they may be prepared for the day's fray. Reveal to us our seeming duties in their real relationships. Help us take time for little deeds of help and tokens of sympathy. Through us may the faith of our fathers be extended a little farther in the defeat of selfishness and the victories of self-denial! We ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.

HORACE T. CHADSEY.

There is a somewhat in the souls of men

That urges them to consummate their deed To struggle on and on, unheeding when

They meet with failure, or mayhap succeed.

It may not matter though the way be long,

Or if we go alone unto the close-
There is one thought to bid the heart be strong:
Somewhere along the path is one who knows.

GENEVIEVE FARNELL-BOND.

Grant, O Lord, that this day which Thou hast given us in mercy may be spent in service to Thee and to

our fellowmen. Make us patient, courageous, loving. May the life of our Blessed Master abound in us more and more, purifying our souls, clearing our vision, strengthening our wills, inspiring confidence and that peace which “passeth all understanding.” Whatever the past may have been, help us to make this day a little better,

a little more Christlike in spirit, more divine in effort, more unselfish and helpful to those about us. May we not be satisfied with present attainments or achievements, but press on patiently and joyfully to the stature of our Lord and Master.

Amen. EDWARD C. WINSLOW.

Not he alone who gladly dies

To win his country's fame
For some great, unreckoned deed,

Rests 'neath an honored name

But he to whom the hand of Fate

A bitter portion gives,
Who, daily battling fear and pain,
With smiling courage, lives.

CHARLOTTE BECKER.

Our Heavenly Father, we come from Thee, and in Thine own good time we shall go back to Thee. All the days of our life we receive Thy loving care, direction, and provision for our needs. We would render thanks to the Giver. We pray that Thou wilt keep our hearts this day in peace. May we do Thy will and please Thee. We know that the crowns of glory are for the patient endurers as well as for the brave overcomers. Give us courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for its vexations. May we fight the good fight, finish our course with rejoicing, and keep the faith. When life's little day dies in the west, may we find the eternal morning and the Father's house. Amen.

WILLIAM HENRY HODGE.

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