—­Proverbs 24. 14.

My Father, if I am to-day without happiness, may I go in search of it.  Help me to remember that the will thou hast given me to overcome evil with good I may use to overcome misery with happiness.  Make me careful that I may not be trapped by selfishness as I look for joy.  May I delight in the sweet sensations that are felt in having consideration for others, and may I make kindness a daily habit.  Amen.

APRIL TWENTY-NINTH

Michel Ruyter died 1676.

Abbe Charles de St. Pierre died 1743.

Matthew Vassar born 1792.

Edward Rowland Sill born 1841.

    Never yet was a springtime,
      Late though lingered the snow,
    That the sap stirred not at the whisper
      Of the south wind, sweet and low;
    Never yet was a springtime
      When the buds forgot to blow.

    Ever the wings of the summer
      Are folded under the mold;
    Life that has known no dying,
      Is Love’s, to have and to hold,
    Till, sudden, the burgeoning Easter! 
      The song! the green and the gold![1]

    —­Margaret E. Sangster.

    In tracing the shade, I shall find out the sun.

    —­Owen Meredith.

    All chastening seemeth for the present to be not joyous but
    grievous; yet afterward it yieldeth peaceable fruit unto them that
    have been exercised thereby, even the fruit of righteousness.

    —­Hebrews 12. 11.

Almighty God, grant that as the fulfillment of the green comes to the withered grass, so thy restoring may come to me with the glory of life that comes in the resurrection of the soul.  I trust thee to bring me out of winter’s seal, that I may help make the spring.  Amen.

[Footnote 1:  From Easter Bells.  Copyright, 1897, by Harper & Brothers.]

APRIL THIRTIETH

Chevalier de Bayard killed 1524.

Sir John Lubbock born 1834.

James Montgomery died 1854.

David Livingstone died 1873.

    We scatter seeds with careless hands,
    And dream we ne’er shall see them more;
      But for a thousand years
      Their fruit appears
    In weeds that mar the land.

    —­John Keble

    And there came up a sweet perfume
      From the unseen flowers below,
    Like the savor of virtuous deeds,
      Of deeds done long ago.

    —­Mrs. Southey.

    Mary therefore took a pound of ointment of pure nard, very precious,
    and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair: 
    and the house was filled with the odor of the ointment.

    —­John 12. 3.

My Father, I pray that it may be mine to have the recollection of happy deeds, and not the memory of unkept promises.  Help me to remember that one act is worth a thousand intentions, and that memory is the storehouse that supplies old age.  Make me careful of my memory, that it may not be burdened.  Amen.