Tact Is The Unsaid Part Of What

Thou Wayfaring Jesus - A Pilgrim And Stranger, Exiled From Heaven By Love At Thy Birth: Exiled Again From Thy Rest In The Manger, A Fugitive Child 'mid The Perils Of Earth - Cheer With Thy Fellowship All Who Are Weary, Wandering Far From The Land That They Love: Guide Every Heart That Is Homeless And Dreary, Safe To Its Home In Thy Presence Above.

The Storm Is Ended! The Impartial Sunlaughs Down Upon The Battle Lost And Won,and Crowns The Triumph Of The Cloudy Hostin Rolling Lines Retreating To The Coast.

The World Is Full Of Warfare 'twixt The Evil And The Good;i Watched The Battle From Afar As One Who Understoodthe Shouting And Confusion, The Bloody, Blundering Fight-how Few There Are That See It Clear, How Few That Wage It Right!

We May Be Able To Tell How Many Stars Are In The Milky Way; We May Be Able To Count The Petals Of Every Flower, And Number The Bones Of Every Bird; But Unless Faith Leads Us To A Deeper Understanding, A More Reverent Comprehension Of The Significance Of The Universe, God Can Be No More Pleased With Our Knowledge Than The Painter Is Pleased With The Fly Which Touches His Picture With Its Feelers, And Sips The Varnish From The Surface, And Dies Without Dreaming Of The Meaning, Thought, Feeling, Embodied In The Colors.

What We Do Belongs To What We Are; And What We Are Is What Becomes Of Us.