The Ruins Of Time Build Mansions In

Christianity Is Art And Not Money. Money Is Its Curse.

The Bird A Nest, The Spider A Web, Man Friendship.

I Have No Name: I Am But Two Days Old. What Shall I Call Thee? I Happy Am, Joy Is My Name. Sweet Joy Befall Thee!

I Myself Do Nothing. The Holy Spirit Accomplishes All Through Me.

O Autumn, Laden With Fruit, And Stained With The Blood Of The Grape, Pass Not, But Sit Beneath My Shady Roof; There Thou May'st Rest, And Tune Thy Jolly Voice To My Fresh Pipe; And All The Daughters Of The Year Shall Dance! Sing Now The Lusty Song Of Fruit And Flowers.