Death Is The Condition Of Higher And

Nature Satisfies My Thirst; It Feeds My Hunger; It Finds Me Clothing; It Affords Me Shelter; It Wraps Me Around When I Sleep With Beneficent And Watchful Care; And It Takes Me At Last To Its Great Bosom, Where My Ashes Mingle With Their Kindred Dust.

The Gospel Has But A Forced Alliance With War. Its Doctrine Of Human Brotherhood Would Ring Strangely Between The Opposed Ranks. The Bellowing Speech Of Cartoon And The Baptism Of Blood Mock Its Liturgies And Sacraments. Its Gentle Beatitudes Would Hardly Serve As Mottoes For Defiant Banners, Nor Its List Of Graces As Names For Ships-of-the-line.

Let Us Not Fear That The Issues Of Natural Science Shall Be Scepticism Or Anarchy. Through All God's Works There Runs A Beautiful Harmony. The Remotest Truth In His Universe Is Linked To That Which Lies Nearest The Throne.

In The History Of Man It Has Been Very Generally The Case That When Evils Have Grown Insufferable They Have Touched The Point Of Cure.

It Is Those Who Make The Least Display Of Their Sorrow Who Mourn The Deepest.