Sustained And Soothed By An Unfaltering Trust,

Or, Bide Thou Where The Poppy Blows With Windflowers Fail And Fair.

It Is A Sultry Day; The Sun Has Drunk The Dew That Lay Upon The Morning Grass; There Is No Rustling In The Lofty Elm That Canopies My Dwelling, And Its Shade Scarce Cools Me. All Is Silent, Save The Faint And Interrupted Murmur Of The Bee, Settling On The Sick Flowers, And Then Again Instantly On The Wing.

To Him Who In The Love Of Nature Holds Communion With Her Visible Forms, She Speaks A Various Language.

A Stable, Changeless State, 'twere Cause Indeed To Weep.

Christ Taught An Astonishing Thing About Physical Death: Not Merely That It Is An Experience Robbed Of Its Terror But That As An Experience It Does Not Exist At All. To "sleep In Christ," Like One That Wraps The Drapery Of His Couch About Him, And Lies Down To Pleasant Dreams.