In His Will, Our Peace.

The Man Who Lies Asleep Will Never Waken Fame, And His Desire And All His Life Drift Past Him Like A Dream, And The Traces Of His Memory Fade From Time Like Smoke In Air, Or Ripples On A Stream.

Many Have Justice In Their Hearts, But Slowly It Is Let Fly, For It Comes Not Without Council To The Bow.

Ah! Justice Of Our God! Who Else Could Stow Such Travails New And Pains As Met My Glance!

O Human Race, Born To Fly Upward, Wherefore At A Little Wind Dost Thou So Fall?

The More Perfect A Thing Is, The More Susceptible To Good And Bad Treatment It Is.