Sleep In Peace, And Wake In Joy.

My Hope, My Heaven, My Trust Must Be, My Gentle Guide, In Following Thee.

Certainly," Quoth Athelstane, "women Are The Least To Be Trusted Of All Animals, Monks And Abbots Excepted.

Breathes There The Man, With Soul So Dead, Who Never To Himself Hath Said, This Is My Own, My Native Land! Whose Heart Hath Ne'er Within Him Burn'd, As Home His Footsteps He Hath Turn'd From Wandering On A Foreign Strand! If Such There Breathe, Go Mark Him Well; For Him No Minstrel Raptures Swell; High Though His Titles, Proud His Name, Boundless His Wealth As Wish Can Claim; Despite Those Titles, Power, And Pelf, The Wretch, Concentred All In Self, Living, Shall Forfeit Fair Renown, And, Doubly Dying, Shall Go Down To The Vile Dust, From Whence He Sprung, Unwept, Unhonor'd, And Unsung.

For He That Does Good, Having The Unlimited Power To Do Evil, Deserves Praise Not Only For The Good Which He Performs, But For The Evil Which He Forbears.

Many Miles Away There's A Shadow On The Door Of A Cottage On The Shore Of A Dark Scottish Lake.