Make Me, Oh God, The Prey Of

The Most Wonderful Thing, Mary, Is That You And I Are Always Walking Together, Hand In Hand, In A Strangely Beautiful World, Unknown To Other People. We Both Stretch One Hand To Receive From Life - And Life Is Generous Indeed.

Vague And Nebulous Is The Beginning Of All Things, But Not Their End.

When You Work You Fulfill A Part Of Earth's Furthest Dream, Assigned To You When That Dream Was Born, And What Is It To Work With Love? It Is To Weave The Cloth With Threads Drawn From Your Heart, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Wear That Cloth. It Is To Build A House With Affection, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Dwell In That House. It Is To Sow Seeds With Tenderness And Reap The Harvest With Joy, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Eat The Fruit. It Is To Charge All Things You Fashion With A Breath Of Your Own Spirit. Work Is Love Made Visible

Like The Seeds Dreaming Beneath The Snow Your Heart Dreams Of Spring.

Youth Is A Beautiful Dream, On Whose Brightness Books Shed A Blinding Dust. Will Ever The Day Come When The Wise Link The Joy Of Knowledge To Youth's Dream? Will Ever The Day Come When Nature Becomes The Teacher Of Man, Humanity His Book And Life His School? Youth's Joyous Purpose Cannot Be Fulfilled Until That Day Comes. Too Slow Is Our March Toward Spiritual Elevation, Because We Make So Little Use Of Youth's Ardor.