Christmas Hath A Beauty ... Lovelier Than

Can Anything Be Sadder Than Work Left Unfinished? Yes, Work Never Begun.

Hope Dead Lives Nevermore, No, Not In Heaven.

O Lord, Who Art Our Guide Even Unto Death, Grant Us, I Pray Thee, Grace To Follow Thee Whithersoever Thou Goest. In Little Daily Duties To Which Thou Callest Us, Bow Down Our Wills To Simple Obedience.

I Wish I Could Remember The First Day, First Hour, First Moment Of Your Meeting Me; If Bright Or Dim The Season It Might Be; Summer Or Winter For Aught I Can Say. So, Unrecorded Did It Slip Away, So Blind Was I To See And To Forsee, So Dull To Mark The Budding Of My Tree That Would Not Blossom, Yet, For Many A May.

For There Is No Friend Like A Sister In Calm Or Stormy Weather.