The Cares Of Today Are Seldom Those

Spring Hangs Her Infant Blossoms On The Trees, Rock'd In The Cradle Of The Western Breeze.

The Slaves Of Custom And Established Mode, With Pack-horse Constancy We Keep The Road Crooked Or Straight, Through Quags Or Thorny Dells, True To The Jingling Of Our Leader's Bells.

God Moves In A Mysterious Way His Wonders To Perform; He Plants His Footsteps In The Sea, And Rides Upon The Storm. Deep In Unfathomable Mines Of Never Failing Skill He Treasures Up His Bright Designs, And Works His Sovereign Will. Ye Fearful Saints Fresh Courage Take, The Clouds Ye So Much Dread Are Big With Mercy, And Shall Break In Blessings On Your Head. Judge Not The Lord By Feeble Sense, But Trust Him For His Grace; Behind A Frowning Providence He Hides A Smiling Face.

Absence Of Occupation Is Not Rest; A Mind Quite Vacant Is A Mind Distressed.

What We Admire We Praise; And When We Praise, Advance It Into Notice, That Its Worth Acknowledged, Others May Admire It Too.