See Yonder Little Cloud, That, Borne Aloft

Every Man Has His Secret Sorrows.

O Weary Hearts! O Slumbering Eyes! O Drooping Souls, Whose Destinies Are Fraught With Fear And Pain, Ye Shall Be Loved Again.

Oh, What A Glory Doth This World Put On, For Him Who With A Fervent Heart Goes Forth Under The Bright And Glorious Sky, And Looks On Duties Well Performed, And Days Well Spent.

He That Respects Himself Is Safe From Others. He Wears A Coat Of Mail That None Can Pierce.

A Torn Jacket Is Soon Mended; But Hard Words Bruise The Heart Of A Child.