I Knew The Mass Of Men Conceal'd

Culture, The Acquainting Ourselves With The Best That Has Been Known And Said In The World, And Thus With The History Of The Human Spirit.

All The Biblical Miracles Will At Last Disappear With The Progress Of Science.

Miracles Do Not Happen.

Spare Me The Whispering, Crowded Room, The Friends Who Come And Gape And Go, The Ceremonious Air Of Gloom - All, Which Makes Death A Hideous Show.

Calm Soul Of All Things! Make It Mine To Feel, Amid The City's Jar, That There Abides A Peace Of Thine, Man Did Not Make, And Cannot Mar! The Will To Neither Strive Nor Cry, The Power To Feel What Others Give! Calm, Calm Me More! Nor Let Me Die Before I Have Begun To Live.