See Yonder Little Cloud, That, Borne Aloft

Everyone Says That Forgiveness Is A Lovely Idea Until He Has Something To Forgive.

The Greatest Grace Of A Gift, Perhaps, Is That It Anticipates And Admits Of No Return.

For In The Night, Unseen, A Single Warrior, In Sombre Harness Mailed, Dreaded Of Man, And Surnamed The Destroyer, The Rampart Wall Has Scaled. He Passed Into The Chamber Of The Sleeper, The Dark And Silent Room, And As He Entered, Darker Grew, And Deeper, The Silence And The Gloom.

Sunday Is The Golden Clasp That Binds Together The Volume Of The Week.

In December Ring Every Day The Chimes; Loud The Gleemen Sing In The Streets Their Merry Rhymes. Let Us By The Fire Ever Higher Sing Them Till The Night Expire!