If One's Conscience Be Dead As A

Each Thing Lives According To Its Kind; The Heart By Love, The Intellect By Truth, The Higher Nature Of Man By Intimate Communion With God.

The Wild Bird That Flies So Lone And Far Has Somewhere Its Nest And Brood. A Little Fluttering Heart Of Love Impels Its Wings, And Points Its Course. There Is Nothing So Solitary As A Solitary Man.

Can You Conceive Of Anything That So Represents The Glory, And Truth, And Marvelousness Of God's Nature As The Idea Of Peace?

It Is Because We Underrate Thought, Because We Do Not See What A Great Element It Is In Religious Life, That There Is So Little Of Practical And Consistent Religion Among Us.

Pure Felicity Is Reserved For The Heavenly Life; It Grows Not In An Earthly Soil.