Chapter I: J. Mead

May 21

_As one familiar with the sonatas and the symphonies of Beethoven,
while passing along the street in summer, gets, from out of the
open window, a snatch of a song or a piece that is being played,
catching a strain here and another there--and says to himself, "Ah,
that is Beethoven. I recognize that: it is from such and such a
movement of the Pastoral" or whatever it may be;--so men in life
catch strains of God in the mother's disinterested and self-denying
love, in the lover's glow, in the little child's innocent
affections. Where did this thing come from? No plant ever brought
out such fruit as this?_

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

Father of all and giver of every good thing, to Thee we pray; to Thee we look for light, for truth, for beauty. In the travail of thought may there come only the highest and best good. Where there is division we ask for unity; where there is confusion we ask for serenity; where there is discord, we ask for harmony. May divergent paths lead to the larger way of widening vision, distinctive service, unstinted love. Hasten the day when Thy purpose shall be accomplished in us, and when that which is now imperfect shall become the perfected whole. Grant to us wisdom to pursue noble ends with intelligent zeal, and patient effort, and in a charitable and hopeful spirit. Amen.