The Rose Saith In The Dewy Morn,

Faith Is Like A Lily, Lifted High And White.

Flowers Preach To Us If We Will Hear.

Be The Green Grass Above Me, With Showers And Dewdrops Wet; And If Thou Wilt, Remember, And If Thou Wilt, Forget.

To Me It Seems Our Duty Towards The Bible Is To Obey Its Teaching In Faith. I Do Not Think We Are Bound To Understand Or Account For All Its Utterances.

And All Winds Go Sighing For Sweet Things Dying.