Some People Habitually Wear Sadness, Like A

In The Matter Of Faith, We Have The Added Weight Of Hope To That Of Reason In The Convictions Which We Sustain Relating To A Future State.

Death Is A Great Revealer Of What Is In A Man, And In Its Solemn Shadow Appear The Naked Lineaments Of The Soul.

Life Is A Problem. Not Merely A Premiss From Which We Start, But A Goal Towards Which We Proceed. It Is An Opportunity For Us Not Merely To Get, But To Attain; Not Simply To Have, But To Be. Its Standard Of Failure Or Success Is Not Outward Fortune, But Inward Possession.

The Essence Of Justice Is Mercy. Making A Child Suffer For Wrong-doing Is Merciful To The Child. There Is No Mercy In Letting The Child Have Its Own Will, Plunging Headlong To Destruction With The Bits In Its Mouth. There Is No Mercy To Society Nor To The Criminal If The Wrong Is Not Repressed And The Right Vindicated. We Injure The Culprit Who Comes Up To Take His Proper Doom At The Bar Of Justice, If We Do Not Make Him Feel That He Has Done A Wrong Thing. We May Deliver His Body From The Prison, But Not At The Expense Of Justice Nor To His Own Injury.

How Often A New Affection Makes A New Man! The Sordid, Cowering Soul Turns Heroic. The Frivolous Girl Becomes The Steadfast Martyr Of Patience And Ministration, Transfigured By Deathless Love. The Career Of Bounding Impulses Turns Into An Anthem Of Sacred Deeds.