Ho! for the bending sheaves,
Ho! for the crimson leaves
Flaming in splendor!

Season of ripened gold,
Plenty in crib and fold,

Skies with a depth untold
Liquid and tender.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

Source Infinite and Eternal of Light and Life; Creator of being flowing on forever; Minister far and wide of unspeakable bounty; Through whose power rise the riches of Nature; From whose abundance descend all gifts to man; Soul of our souls and safeguard of the world; To whom all Intelligence looks through every dawn; And by whose support the heart of man is stayed; Let there be to our steps paths of brightness; to our lives laws of justice, kindness, and trust, that we may abound in doing good and by grace, mercy, and truth duly shown, may obtain grateful remembrance evermore. Amen.

EDWARD C. TownE.

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood

Touch of manner, hint of mood;

And my heart is like a rhyme,

With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry Of bugles going by.

And my lonely spirit thrills

To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills. RICHARD HOVEY.

O Father, my heart is lonely till I feel Thy spirit near, and then the glory of the season brings a message to my soul. Help me now to see Thy master hand in the great beauty of the world. May my soul that feels the glad riot of color know that he who gives such beauty and bounty has for me far richer blessings in the great fields of the future. May this day, begun with Nature's rhythm be set with the music of holy purpose and noble service. And may the music sound not alone for me, but for others that we together may march forward in the spirit of Him who loved the lilies of the field and the fowls of the air. Amen.

CHARLES E. VARNEY.

Thousands of years ago a leaf fell on the soft clay, and seemed to be lost. But last summer a geologist in his ramblings broke off a piece of rock with his hammer, and there lay the image of the leaf, with every line and every vein and all the delicate tracery preserved in the stone through those centuries. So the words we speak and the things we do today may seem to be lost, but in the great final revealing the smallest of them will appear. JAMES RUSSELL MILLER.

Our Father we thank Thee for the light of this new day. Tenderly Thou hast withdrawn the curtain of the night and shown us the beauties and glories of Nature, reminding us of Thine own blessed verdict in the dawn of creation, " Behold they are very good." Good indeed, is it to live in such a world, and we thank Thee for our being. We ask this morning, dear Lord, not for the perishing things of earth, but for continued power and disposition to enjoy Thee and Thy works, for a faith that never wavers and a hope that never grows dim, for such a portion of this world's goods as the wise may enjoy without harm and the righteous hold without wrong. Amen.

JAMES SALLAWAY.

Nay, I wrong you, little flower,
Reading mournful mood of mine
In your looks, that give no sign
Of a spirit dark and cheerless:
You possess the heavenly power
That rejoices in the hour,
Glad, contented, free and fearless,-
Lifts a sunny face to heaven
When a sunny day is given;
Makes a summer of its own,
Blooming late and all alone.

HENRY VAN Dyke.

We thank Thee, O Father, that, to those who obey the command of Jesus to consider them, the flowers become prophets of God and preachers of righteousness. We thank Thee for the worship which They render Thee, so pure, so brave, so glad, and so acceptable. They may not hinder Thee and Thou dost work Thy perfect will in them; O give us the wisdom and the grace to make Thee welcome to our hearts until in us also Thou shalt work Thy perfect will. So may we find our true use and felicity, and render unto Thee the praise that is Thy due. And this we ask through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

CHARLES R. TENNEY.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with Him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel-shells
With a sweet kernel; to set to budding more
And still more later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease, For summer has o'er brimmed their clammy cells. JOHN KEATS.

Our dear Heavenly Father, Thou hast ever been wooing us by a thousand influences and voices to Thyself and our souls are ever restless till they rest in Thy love. The voices of nature everywhere speak to us of Thy goodness and Thy power and all verdure and blossom and fruitage is but the answer of the inanimate world to Thy call of life. Shall we do less than these, O God, when upon us Thou hast stamped Thine own image and made our being the house beautiful for Thine indwelling! We are Thy disciples indeed if we bear much fruit and have love one for the other. Mould us, fashion us, mature us, dear Lord, till the angels, watching at the gates and on the towers, say we look like Thee. And this we ask in Jesus' name. Amen.

GEORGE M. SMILEY.