He Hath Awakened From The

The Intense Atom Glows A Moment, Then Is Quenched In A Most Cold Repose.

Mankind, Transmitting From Generation To Generation The Legacy Of Accumulated Vengeances, And Pursuing With The Feelings Of Duty The Misery Of Their Fellow-beings, Have Not Failed To Attribute To The Universal Cause A Character Analogous With Their Own. The Image Of This Invisible, Mysterious Being Is More Or Less Excellent And Perfect — Resembles More Or Less Its Original — In Proportion To The Perfection Of The Mind On Which It Is Impressed.

It Is Not A Merit To Tolerate, But Rather A Crime To Be Intolerant.

The Flood Of Time Is Rolling On; We Stand Upon Its Brink, Whilst They Are Gone To Glide In Peace Down Death's Mysterious Stream. Have Ye Done Well?

Ah, Woe Is Me! Winter Is Come And Gone. But Grief Returns With The Revolving Year.