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Our days are like beautiful summer fields, as God give them to us. The minutes are lovely blooming flowers and silvery grass blades, and stalks of wheat with their germs of golden foliage, or vines with their blossoms – prophecies of coming purple clusters. Oh, the fair possibilities of the days and hours and minutes as they come to us from God’s hands! But what did you do with yesterday? How does the little acre of that one day look to you now? Is it waving with beauty? Are there no waste spots in it? What did you do with the seven days of last week? How does that seven acre field appear to you as you view it from the hilltop of the holy Sabbath? Are there no wasted minutes, no squandered hours?