Prayer Moves The Arm Which

Prayer Is The Soul's Sincere Desire, Uttered Or Unexpressed, The Motion Of A Hidden Fire That Trembles In The Breast. Prayer Is The Burden Of A Sigh, The Falling Of A Tear, The Upward Glancing Of An Eye When None But God Is Near.

To-morrow — Oh, 'twill Never Be, If We Should Live A Thousand Years! Our Time Is All To-day, To-day, The Same, Though Changed; And While It Flies With Still Small Voice The Moments Say: "to-day, To-day, Be Wise, Be Wise.

When The Good Man Yields His Breath (for The Good Man Never Dies).

When Evening Closes Nature's Eye, The Glow-worm Lights Her Little Spark To Captivate Her Favorite Fly And Tempt The Rover Through The Dark.

Fairest And Best Adorned Is She Whose Clothing Is Humility.