He Fed His Spirit With The Bread

By A Divine Paradox, Wherever There Is One Slave There Are Two

Bowed By The Weight Of Centuries He Leans Upon His Hoe And Gazes On The Ground, The Emptiness Of Ages In His Face, And On His Back The Burden Of The World.

Fight Ever On: This Earthly Stuff If Used God’s Way Will Be Enough. Face To The Firing Line O Friend Fight Out Life’s Battle To The End. One Soldier, When The Fight Was Red, Threw Down His Broken Sword And Fled. Another Snatched It, Won The Day, With What His Comrade Flung Away.

Earth Is Enough. We Men Of Earth Have Here The Stuff Of Paradise - We Have Enough! We Need No Other Stones To Build The Temple Of The Unfulfilled - No Other Ivory For The Doors - No Other Marble For The Floors - No Other Cedar For The Beam And Dome Of Man's Immortal Dream. Here On The Paths Of Every-day - Here On The Common Human Way Is All The Stuff The Gods Would Take To Build A Heaven, To Mold And Make New Edens. Ours Is The Stuff Sublime To Build Eternity In Time!

By A Divine Paradox, Wherever There Is One Slave There Are Two. So In The Wonderful Reciprocities Of Being, We Can Never Reach The Higher Levels Until All Our Fellows Ascend With Us.