Lowth born 1661.

James Thomson born 1700.

But what is virtue but repose of mind,
A pure ethereal calm, that knows no storm;
Above the reach of wild ambitious wind,
Above the passions that this world deform.

--James Thomson.

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!"

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
'Tis all that I implore;
In life and death, a chainless soul
With courage to endure.

--Emily Bronte.

Cast not away therefore your boldness, which hath great recompense
of reward.

--Hebrews 10. 35.

Tender Father, may I pause this morning to look at that which I keep
uppermost in my life; and if it may not be worthy of thy esteem, may I
be bold enough to revise my ideals. With thy compassion may I free my
heart and mind of all unworthiness, and be given endurance to restore
the empty places. Amen.

SEPTEMBER TWELFTH

Jean-Philippe Rameau born 1693.

Griffith Jones died 1786.

Charles Dudley Warner born 1829.

Our duty is to be useful, not according to our desires, but
according to our powers.

--Amiel.

How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ
All the heart and the soul and the senses for ever in joy!

--Robert Browning.

Do something! No man is born with a mortgage on his soul; but every
man is born a debtor to Time. Meet this obligation before you find
too late that your life is impoverished and you cannot redeem it.

--M.B.S.

Let him labor, working with his hands the thing that is good, that
he may have whereof to give to him that hath need.

--Ephesians 4. 28.

My Father, what I have left out of my life I know I cannot recover
now. I pray that I may give the best to what is left. Make me
deliberate, that I may prove my earnestness. Make me industrious, that
I may use my best resources to develop my life and further thy
kingdom. Amen.

SEPTEMBER THIRTEENTH

William Cecil born 1520.

Michael de Montaigne died 1592.

General Wolfe died 1759.

Charles James Fox died 1806.

And thou, O river of to-morrow, flowing
Between thy narrow adamantine walls,
But beautiful, and white with waterfalls
And wreaths of mist, like hands the pathway showing;
I hear the trumpets of the morning blowing.

It is the mystery of