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Thus pass away the generations of men! — thus perish the records of the glory of nations! Yet, when every emanation of the human mind has faded, when in the storms of time the monuments of man's creative art are scattered to the dust, an ever new life springs from the bosom of the earth. Unceasingly prolific Nature unfolds her germs, regardless though sinful man, ever at war with himself, tramples beneath his foot the ripening fruit!

ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT.

Infinite Spirit, Thou buildest the monuments of Thy power in the rocks of the mountains, but Thou buildest the monuments of Thy love in the hearts of men. When the bodies and the works of men have perished the rocks will abide and the trees will bear their fruit. But when the rocks have crumbled the souls of men will abide. If that which is seen is temporal, we thank Thee O Lord, that the unseen is eternal. We are awed by the majesty of the seas and the mountains. But we are inspired by the immortality of the soul. Heavenly Father, may we live today as if made for eternity. So may our lives be dignified and glorified. Amen.

GEORGE L. PERIN.

God doth not need

Either man's work, or His own gifts, who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best; His statı
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.
JOHN MILTON.

O God, who didst give to Thy servant light in his blindness and music in the heart, grant that I may this day be swift to run on all errands of mercy and truth, or patient to wait Thy will, if so Thou commandest. Make me as unswerving as are the stars above me, as trustful as the birds who sing at dawn, and fear not what the day may bring. May I be strong to resist all evil, and cleave to that which is good. May I be conscious that in the loneliest hour Thou art near, and in the most solitary place there is the communion of saints. May Thy power flow through human weakness, and may all the trials and testings of life lead me constantly to the Rock that is higher than I. So may Thy will be done in my life as it is in heaven. Amen.

W. H. P. FAUNCE.

I saw the long line of the vacant shore
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand,
And the brown rocks left bare on every hand,
As if the ebbing tide would flow no more,
Then heard I, more distinctly than before,
The ocean breathe and its great breast expand,
And hurrying came on the defenceless land
The insurgent waters with tumultuous roar.
All thought and feeling and desire, I said,
Love, laughter, and the exultant joy of song
Have ebbed from me forever! Suddenly o'er me
They swept again from their deep ocean bed
And in a tumult of delight, and strong
As youth, and beautiful as youth, upbore me.
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

We give Thee hearty thanks, most Holy Father that Thou hast not delivered up our souls to the emptiness and longing of despair. In Thy mercy and wisdom hast Thou ordained that we may taste ever afresh the deepest joys of life and ever anew feel the thrill of its loftiest inspirations. Like the sea is our life for its largeness; like the sea in its ebbs and flows. O Father of Life, flood our souls this day with a tide from the ocean of Thine own love lifting our lives to highest service and bliss. And Thine shall be all the honor and praise. Amen.

E. W. LUTTERMAN.

The bird, let loose in Eastern skies,
When hastening fondly home,

Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam.

But high she shoots through air and light
Above all low delay,

Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, God, from every care,
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through Virtue's purer air,
To hold my course to Thee!

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My soul, as home she springs;-
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom in her wings!

THOMAS Moore.

O God, who art both life and truth, the Author of our being and the light which lighteneth all, the source of our soul's life, and the goal towards which we strive, as cleaves the lark at dawn the heavenly blue, so may our souls be freed from sense, whose music siren-like would seek to draw us from our flight to Thee. As that same bird rejoices in the morning light, and sounds its note of praise, so may our souls be tuned to heavenly symphonies, and may the sunshine of Thy love, resplendent in secure omnipotence, give glad assurance to our hearts, nor cease to guide our way, until we reach that central orb, our soul's true home, and find eternal rest in Thee. Amen.

ALBERT B. SHIELDS.

There is ever a song somewhere, my dear;
There is ever a something sings alway:
There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear
And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray,
The sunshine showers across the grain,

And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree;
And in and out, when the eaves drip rain,
The swallows are twittering ceaselessly.

There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
Be the skies above or dark or fair,

There is ever a song that our hearts may hear
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear·
There is ever a song somewhere!

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

O God, the Giver of all harmony and joy, before whom the morning stars sang together, by Whom the voice of the sparrow is heard, we thank Thee that we may serve Thee with gladness and come before Thy presence with singing. Put Thy new song into our mouths and help us to render the acceptable praises of the upright and pure in heart. Help us to love all Thy creatures and to delight in the songs Thou hast taught them. Especially enable us to bless our brother men, to hush their sighing and swell their singing, to strengthen the chorus of joy and praise with which Thou hast ordained the world shall be filled. We ask with confidence because we know Thy love. Amen. J. FRANCIS COOPER.

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