History Casts Its Shadow Far Into The

The Little I Have Seen Of The World Teaches Me To Look Upon The Errors Of Others In Sorrow, Not In Anger. When I Take The History Of One Poor Heart That Has Sinned And Suffered, And Represent To Myself The Struggles And Temptations It Has Passed Through, The Brief Pulsations Of Joy, The Feverish Inquietude Of Hope And Fear, The Pressure Of Want, The Desertion Of Friends, I Would Fain Leave The Erring Soul Of My Fellow-man With Him From Whose Hand It Came.

At First Laying Down, As A Fact Fundamental, That Nothing With God Can Be Accidental.

Every Man Has His Secret Sorrows.

My Own Thoughts Are My Companions.

They, The Holy Ones And Weakly, Who The Cross Of Suffering Bore, Folded Their Pale Hands So Meekly, Spake With Us On Earth No More!