How Short Our Happy Days Appear! How

When Sparrows Build And The Leaves Break Forth My Old Sorrow Wakes And Cries.

For Hearts Where Wakened Love Doth Lurk, How Fine, How Blest A Thing Is Work! For Work Does Good When Reasons Fail.

The Moon Looks Upon Many Night Flowers; The Night Flowers See But One Moon.

What Change Has Made The Pastures Sweet And Reached The Daisies At My Feet, And Cloud That Wears A Golden Hem? This Lovely World, The Hills, The Sward-- They All Look Fresh, As If Our Lord But Yesterday Had Finished Them.

Man Is The Miracle In Nature. God Is The One Miracle To Man. Behold, "there Is A God," Thou Sayest. Thou Sayest Well: In That Thou Sayest All. To Be Is More Of Wonderful, Than Being, To Have Wrought, Or Reigned, Or Rested.