O Beautiful, Awful Summer Day,

Build Me Straight. O Worthy Master! Staunch And Strong, A Goodly Vessel That Shall Laugh At All Disaster, And With Wave And Whirlwind Wrestle!

Let Us Labor For An Inward Stillness-- An Inward Stillness And An Inward Healing. That Perfect Silence Where The Lips And Heart Are Still, And We No Longer Entertain Our Own Imperfect Thoughts And Vain Opinions, But God Alone Speaks To Us And We Wait In Singleness Of Heart That We May Know His Will, And In The Silence Of Our Spirits, That We May Do His Will And Do That Only

God Is Not Dead; Nor Doth He Sleep; ... The Wrong Shall Fail, The Right Prevail, With Peace On Earth, Good Will To Men.

No Literature Is Complete Until The Language It Was Written In Is Dead.

The Star Of The Unconquered Will, He Rises In My Breast, Serene, And Resolute, And Still, And Calm, And Self-possessed.