Oh, Could We Lift The Future's Sable

What Men Call Accident Is God's Own Part.

Music Tells No Truths.

The Death-change Comes. Death Is Another Life. We Bow Our Heads At Going Out, We Think, And Enter Straight Another Golden Chamber Of The King's Larger Than This We Leave, And Lovelier. And Then In Shadowy Glimpses, Disconnect, The Story, Flower-like, Closes Thus Its Leaves. The Will Of God Is All In All. He Makes, Destroys, Remakes, For His Own Pleasure, All.

The Temples Perish, But The God Still Lives.

Remember That Thy Heart Will Shed Its Pleasures As Thine Eye Its Tears, And Both Leave Loathsome Furrows.