God's Work Is Freedom. Freedom Is Dear

Truth Is The Root, But Human Sympathy Is The Flower Of Practical Life.

Profaneness Is A Brutal Vice. He Who Indulges In It Is No Gentleman.

A Man's Love For His Native Land Lies Deeper Than Any Logical Expression, Among Those Pulses Of The Heart Which Vibrate To The Sanctities Of Home, And To The Thoughts Which Leap Up From His Father's Graves.

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.

Not Only Is Music A Beautiful And Sublime Science, The Study Of Which Ennobles And Purifies The Mind Of Its Votary, But How Many And Excellent Are Its Ministries To Others!