Lead, Kindly Light, Amid The Encircling Gloom,

It Is As Absurd To Argue Men, As To Torture Them, Into Believing.

Brutes Gaze On Sights, They Are Arrested By Sounds; And What They See And What They Hear Are Sights And Sounds Only. The Intellectof Man, On The Contrary, Energises As Well As His Eye Or Ear, And Perceives In Sights Or Sounds Something Beyond Them. It Seizes And Unites What The Senses Present To It; It Grasps And Forms What Need Not Be Seen Or Heard Except In Detail. It Discerns In Lines And Colors, Or In Tones, What Is Beautiful And What Is Not. It Gives Them A Meaning, And Invests Them With An Idea.

In This World No One Rules By Love; If You Are But Amiable, You Are No Hero; To Be Powerful, You Must Be Strong, And To Have Dominion You Must Have A Genius For Organizing.

Christ Is Already In That Place Of Peace, Which Is All In All. He Is On The Right Hand Of God. He Is Hidden In The Brightness Of The Radiance Which Issues From The Everlasting Throne. He Is In The Very Abyss Of Peace, Where There Is No Voice Of Tumult Or Distress, But A Deep Stillness--stillness, That Greatest And Most Awful Of All Goods Which We Can Fancy; That Most Perfect Of Joys, The Utter Profound, Ineffable Tranquillity Of The Divine Essence. He Has Entered Into His Rest. That Is Our Home; Here We Are On A Pilgrimage, And Christ Calls Us To His Many Mansions Which He Has Prepared.

There Is In Stillness Oft A Magic Power To Calm The Breast When Struggling Passions Lower, Touched By Its Influence, In The Soul Arise Diviner Feelings, Kindred With The Skies.