My Heart Is Like A Singing Bird.

All Things That Pass Are Wisdom's Looking-glass.

I Wish I Could Remember The First Day, First Hour, First Moment Of Your Meeting Me; If Bright Or Dim The Season It Might Be; Summer Or Winter For Aught I Can Say. So, Unrecorded Did It Slip Away, So Blind Was I To See And To Forsee, So Dull To Mark The Budding Of My Tree That Would Not Blossom, Yet, For Many A May.

Obedience Is The Fruit Of Faith.

O Lord, I Cannot Plead My Love Of Thee: I Plead Thy Love Of Me: - The Shallow Conduit Hails The Unfathomed Sea.

What Is The Beginning? Love. What Is The Course. Love Still. What The Goal. The Goal Is Love.