Surely The Stars Are Images Of Love.

The Temples Perish, But The God Still Lives.

Dear Lord, Our God And Saviour! For Thy Gifts The World Were Poor In Thanks, Though Every Soul Were To Do Nought But Breathe Them, Every Blade Of Grass, And Every Atomie Of Earth To Utter It Like Dew.

Night Comes, World-jewelled, . . . The Stars Rush Forth In Myriads As To Wage War With The Lines Of Darkness; And The Moon, Pale Ghost Of Night, Comes Haunting The Cold Earth After The Sun's Red Sea-death--quietless.

Love Spends His All, And Still Hath Store.

When I Forget That The Stars Shine In Air-- When I Forget That Beauty Is In Stars-- When I Forget That Love With Beauty Is-- Will I Forget Thee: Till Then All Things Else.