It Is Slavery To Live In The

I Slept And I Dreamed That Life Is All Joy. I Woke And I Saw That Life Is All Service. I Served And I Saw That Service Is Joy.

O Love, Whose Lordly Hand Has Bridled My Desires, And Raised My Hunger And My Thirst To Dignity And Pride, Let Not The Strong In Me And The Constant Eat The Bread Or Drink The Wine That Tempt My Weaker Self. Let Me Rather Starve, And Let My Heart Parch With Thirst, And Let Me Die And Perish, Ere I Stretch My Hand To A Cup You Did Not Fill, Or A Bowl You Did Not Bless.

Extreme Torture Is Mute, And So We Sat Silent, Petrified, Like Columns Of Marble Buried Under The Sand Of An Earthquake. Neither Wished To Listen To The Other Because Our Heart-threads Had Become Weak And Even Breathing Would Have Broken Them.

Your Friend Is Your Needs Answered. He Is Your Field Which You Sow With Love And Reap With Thanksgiving. And He Is Your Board And Your Fireside. For You Come To Him With Your Hunger, And You Seek Him For Peace.

Poverty Hides Itself In Thought Before It Surrenders To Purses.