So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!
At what point does a man turn into a monster? I don’t believe that it’s when he does horrible things, but when he accepts that he’s able to do them, and that he does them well.
God’s providence is not blind, but full of eyes.
On leaf of palm, on sedge-wrought roll; on plastic clay and leather scroll, man wrote his thoughts; the ages passed, and lo! the Press was found at last!
From the death of the old the new proceeds, and the life of truth from the death of creeds.
O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother; Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there; To worship rightly is to love each other, Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.
The great eventful Present hides the Past; but through the din Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life behind steal in.
Thee lift me, and I lift thee, and together we ascend.
The saddest thing of word or pen, To know the things that might have been.
We faintly hear, we dimly see, In differing phrase we pray; But dim or clear, we own in Him The life, the truth, the way.
We search the world for truth; we cull The good, the pure, the beautiful, From all old flower fields of the soul; And, weary seeker of the best, We come back laden from out quest, To find that all the sages said Is in the Book our mothers read.
I dimly guess, from blessings known, of greater out of sight.
God gives quietness at last.
There’s life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving.
The still, sad music of humanity.
If woman lost us Eden, such As she alone restore it.
No cloud above, no earth below, A universe of sky and snow.
Through this broad street, restless ever, ebbs and flows a human tide, wave on wave a living river; wealth and fashion side by side; Toiler, idler, slave and master, in the same quick current glide.
Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
And peace unweaponed conquers every wrong!