The Music Soars Within The

So Mothers Have God's License To Be Missed.

Truth Outlives Pain, As The Soul Does Life.

I Cannot Speak In Happy Tones; The Tear Drops On My Cheek Show I Am Sad; But I Can Speak Of Grace To Suffer With Submission Meek, Until Made Glad.

For None Can Express Thee, Though All Should Approve Thee. I Love Thee So, Dear, That I Only Can Love Thee.

I Begin To Think That None Are So Bold As The Timid, When They Are Fairly Roused.