I Was Born 'neath A Clouded Star.

I Never Could Be Good When I Was Not Happy.

The Flag Of Our Stately Battles, Not Struggles Of Wrath And Greed, Its Stripes Were A Holy Lesson, Its Spangles A Deathless Creed: 't Was Red With The Blood Of Freemen And White With The Fear Of The Foe; And The Stars That Fight In Their Courses 'gainst Tyrants Its Symbols Know.

Don't You Think That The Best Things Are Already In View?

Boston Is An Oasis In The Desert, A Place Where The Larger Proportion Of People Are Loving, Rational And Happy.

He Has Sounded Forth The Trumpet That Shall Never Call Retreat; He Is Sifting Out The Hearts Of Men Before His Judgment-seat. Oh! Be Swift My Soul To Answer Him, Be Jubilant My Feet! Our God Is Marching On.