—­Lord Byron.

    Knowledge, whether it descend from divine inspiration or spring from
    human sense, would soon perish and vanish to oblivion if it were not
    preserved in books, traditions, conferences, and places appointed.

    —­Francis Bacon.

    Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of the
    prophecy, and keep the things that are written therein.

    —­Revelation 1. 3.

Almighty God, I would have thy counsel as I read the words and follow the deeds of helpful lives, that I may be inspired to nobler activities.  Give me the desire to know more of thy holy word, that I may have a better knowledge of life.  Amen.

JANUARY TWENTY-THIRD

John Hancock born 1737.

William Pitt died 1806.

Charles Kingsley died 1875.

Paul Gustave Dore died 1883.

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful.  Welcome it
in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank Him
for it, who is the fountain of all loveliness.

—­Charles Kingsley.

Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; ’tis her privilege
Through all the years of this life, to lead,
From joy to joy; for she can so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
* * * * *
Nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e’er prevail against us or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.

—­William Wordsworth.

Is not God in the height of heaven? 
And behold the height of the stars, how high they are! 
And thou sayest, What doth God know? 
Can he judge through the thick darkness?

    —­Job 22. 12, 13.

Lord God, I pray that I may not overlook thy blessings of beauty while endeavoring to perform my duties.  Guide me that I may not struggle to be where thou wouldst not have me go.  Amen.

JANUARY TWENTY-FOURTH

Charles Earl of Dorset born 1637.

Frederick the Great born 1712.

Charles James Fox born 1749.

    The great Gods pass through the great Time-hall,
      Stately and high;
    The little men climb the low clay wall
      To gape and spy;
    “We wait for the Gods,” the little men cry,
      “But these are our brothers passing by.”

    The great Gods pass through the great Time-hall;
      Who can see? 
    The little men nod by the low clay wall,
      So tired they be;
    ’"Tis weary waiting for Gods,” they yawn,
      “There’s a world o’ men, but the Gods are gone.”

    —­A.H.  Begbie.

    But their eyes were holden that they should not know him.