—­Frances S. Osgood.

    Keats

    Palled death, with kisses ghostly,
      Wooed and won him while too young,
    And the world reveres him mostly,
      For the songs he might have sung.

    —­Samuel A. Wood.

    Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the
    curtains of thy habitations; spare not:  lengthen thy cords, and
    strengthen thy stakes.

    —­Isaiah 54. 2.

Almighty God, I pray for the will to do my finest work.  Disclose to me if I am being detained by serving selfishness in myself or in others.  Lead me to what is right for me to do; and may I diligently tarry in it.  Amen.

FEBRUARY TWENTY-FOURTH

Samuel Lover born 1797.

Robert Fulton died 1815.

George William Curtis born 1824.

    ’Tis not to enjoy that we exist,
    For that end only; something must be done;
    I must not walk in unreproved delight
    These narrow bounds, and think of nothing more,
    No duty that looks further and no care.

    —­William Wordsworth.

    We weave our thoughts into heart-spun plans,
      And weave secure for a fitful day,
    But lose in the web of earthly things
      The pattern of sublimity.

    Shall days spring up as wild vines grow,
      Unheeding where they climb or cling? 
    Consider, child, before you sow,
      And wait not until harvesting.

    —­M.B.S.

    Jehovah is my strength and my shield;
    My heart hath trusted in him, and I am helped: 
    Therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth;
    And with my song will I praise him.

    —­Psalm 28. 7.

Loving Father, command my judgment for the influences which I permit to come into my life.  Grant that I may not delay my purposes for the lack of comforts which are so often made more than life.  With thy strength may I be steadfast in what I would achieve.  Amen.

FEBRUARY TWENTY-FIFTH

William Seely died 1521.

Sir Christopher Wren died 1723.

Jane Goodwin Austin born 1831.

Camille Flammarion born 1842.

    In general, pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes.  All other
    passions do occasionally good; but wherever pride puts in its word
    everything goes wrong.

    —­John Ruskin.

    He that is proud eats up himself:  pride is his own glass, his own
    trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the
    deed, devours the deed in the praise.

    —­William Shakespeare.

    Save me alike from foolish pride
      Or impious discontent;
    At aught Thy wisdom hath denied,
      Or aught Thy wisdom lent.

    —­Alexander Pope.