Thou Art The Sun Of Other Days.

For As Fire Is Kindled By Fire, So Is A Poet's Mind Kindled By Contact With A Brother Poet.

If The Church Of England Were To Fail, It Would Be Found In My Parish

The Trivial Round, The Common Task,would Furnish All We Ought To Ask.

Sweet Is The Infant's Waking Smile, And Sweet The Old Man's Rest-- But Middle Age By No Fond Wile, No Soothing Calm Is Blest.

Blest Are The Pure In Heart, For They Shall See Our God. The Secret Of The Lord Is Theirs; Their Soul Is Christ's Abode.