June 17
"Does the road wind up-hill all the way?"
"Yes, to the very end!"
"Will the day's journey take the whole long day?"
"From morn to night, my friend!"
"But is there for the night a resting-place?"
"A roof for all when the dark hours begin."
"May not the darkness hide it from my face?"
"You cannot miss that inn."
"Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?"
"Those who have gone before."
"Then must I knock or call when just in sight?"
"They will not keep you standing at that door."
"Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?"
"Of labor you shall find the sum."
"Will there be beds for me and all who seek?"
"Yea,—beds for all who come!"
Christina Rossetti.
Our Heavenly Father, we thank Thee for this new day. May it be an open door to faithful service. Open our eyes that we may see all vexations, distresses, and toil as angels in disguise sent to strengthen and fulfil us, to prepare us for larger blessings at our journey's end. As the blue sky of Thy loving kindness is broader and more enduring than the clouds that sometimes hide it, so teach us to trust Thine unfailing love that overarches and outlasts all weariness and pain. When life and strength fail us here, may we find them transformed and glorious in the city of God hereafter. Be Thou our shield and our reward now and forever. Amen.
June 18
Those homelier wildflowers, which we call weeds; yellow japanned buttercups and star-disked dandelions, lying in the grass, like sparks that have leaped from the kindling sun of summer; the profuse daisy-like flower which whitens the fields, to the great disgust of liberal shepherds, yet seems fair to loving eyes, with its button-like mound of gold set round with milk-white rays; the tall-stemmed succory, setting its pale blue flowers aflame one after another; the red and white clovers; the broad, flat leaves of the plantain,—"the white man's foot," as the Indians called it;—those common growths which fling themselves to be crushed under our feet and our wheels, making themselves so cheap in this perpetual martyrdom that we forget, each of them is a ray of the divine beauty.
Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Our Heavenly Father, however poor and mean and commonplace our lives may seem to be, in our better moments we think of ourselves as Thy children. We may have failed sometimes but we shall not utterly fail. In Thy sight, nothing is common or worthless. No life shall be cast as rubbish to the void. However commonplace our tasks may seem, let us feel ourselves in partnership with God, and go forth to the duties of the day with high hope and sense of dignity. So shalt Thou make even our little lives of some real service to the world. We pray to Thee in the spirit of Him, who though the humblest of all, was yet Master of all. Amen.