Yet There Are Some Resting-places,

How Gently Rock Yon Poplars High Against The Reach Of Primrose Sky With Heaven's Pale Candles Stored.

What Change Has Made The Pastures Sweet And Reached The Daisies At My Feet, And Cloud That Wears A Golden Hem? This Lovely World, The Hills, The Sward-- They All Look Fresh, As If Our Lord But Yesterday Had Finished Them.

For Hearts Where Wakened Love Doth Lurk, How Fine, How Blest A Thing Is Work! For Work Does Good When Reasons Fail.

Man Is The Miracle In Nature. God Is The One Miracle To Man.

Reign, And Keep Life In This Our Deep Desireour Only Greatness Is That We Aspire.