The Plague Of Gold Strikes Far And

The Least Flower, With Brimming Cup, May Stand And Share Its Dew Drop With Another Near.

Beloved, Let Us Live So Well Our Work Shall Still Be Better For Our Love, And Still Our Love Be Sweeter For Our Work.

Gaze Up At The Stars Knowing That I See The Same Sky And Wish The Same Sweet Dreams.

I Love Thee To The Depth And Breadth And Height My Soul Can Reach.

Do Ye Hear The Children Weeping, O My Brothers?