Nature Is Saturated With Deity.

All Nobility In Its Beginnings Was Somebody's Natural Superiority.

It Is Never Too Late To Do Right.

No Man Ever Prayed Heartily Without Learning Something.

Silent Rushes The Swift Lord Through Ruined Systems Still Restored, Broadsowing, Bleak And Void To Bless, Plants With Worlds The Wilderness; Waters With Tears Of Ancient Sorrow Apples Of Eden Ripe To-morrow. House And Tenant Go To Ground, Lost In God, In Godhead Found.

Men Consort In Camp And Town But The Poet Dwells Alone.