Prayer Is The Spirit Speaking Truth To

There Is No Surer Mark Of The Absence Of The Highest Moral And Intellectual Qualities Than A Cold Reception Of Excellence.

Blest Is He Whose Heart Is The Home Of The Great Dead And Their Great Thoughts.

The Poet's Pen Is The True Divining Rod Which Trembles Towards The Inner Founts Of Feeling; Bringing To Light And Use, Else Hid From All, The Many Sweet Clear Sources Which We Have Of Good And Beauty In Our Own Deep Bosoms; And Marks The Variations Of All Mind As Does The Needle.

True Faith Nor Biddeth Nor Abideth Form, The Bended Knee, The Eye Uplift; Is All Which Men Need Render; All Which God Can Bear. What To The Faith Are Forms? A Passing Speck, A Crow Upon The Sky.

Tis Light Translateth Night; 'tis Inspiration Expounds Experience; 'tis The West Explains The East; 'tis Time Unfolds Eternity.