The Land Is Dearer For The Sea,

Whatever With The Past Has Gone, The Best Is Always Yet To Come.

The Religion Of Our Fathers Overhung Us Children Like The Shadow Of A Mighty Tree Against The Trunk Of Which We Rested, While We Looked Up In Wonder Through The Great Boughs That Half Hid And Half Revealed The Sky. Some Of The Boughs Were Already Decaying, So That Perhaps We Began To See A Little More Of The Sky Than Our Elders; But The Tree Was Sound At Its Heart.

Let Us Not Depreciate Earth. There Is No Atom In It But Is Alive And Astir In The All-penetrating Splendor Of God. From The Infinitesimal To The Infinite, Everything Is Striving To Express The Thought Of His Presence With Which It Overflows.

A Friend Is A Beloved Mystery; Dearest Always Because He Is Not Ourself, And Has Something In Him Which It Is Impossible For Us To Fathom. If It Were Not So, Friendship Would Lose Its Chief Zest.

When April Steps Aside For May, Like Diamonds All The Rain-drops Glisten; Fresh Violets Open Every Day: To Some New Bird Each Hour We Listen.