Do Ye Hear The Children Weeping, O

Love That Endures, From Life That Disappears!

I Love Thee With The Passion Put To Use In My Old Griefs, And With My Childhood's Faith. I Love Thee With A Love I Seemed To Lose With My Lost Saints,-i Love Thee With The Breath, Smiles, Tears, Of All My Life!-and, If God Choose, I Shall But Love Thee Better After Death.

No Man Can Be Called Friendless Who Has God And The Companionship Of Good Books.

There Are Nettles Everywhere, But Smooth, Green Grasses Are More Common Still; The Blue Of Heaven Is Larger Than The Cloud.

Behold Me! I Am Worthy Of Thy Loving, For I Love Thee!