The Thankful Heart Will Find, In Every

In The Morning, We Carry The World Like Atlas; At Noon, We Stoop And Bend Beneath It; And At Night, It Crushes Us Flat To The Ground.

Many Men Are Stored Full Of Unused Knowledge. Like Loaded Guns That Are Never Fired Off, Or Military Magazines In Times Of Peace, They Are Stuffed With Useless Ammunition.

Where All Of The Man Is What Property He Owns, It Does Not Take Long To Annihilate Him.

But There Have Been Human Hearts, Constituted Just Like Ours, For Six Thousand Years. The Same Stars Rise And Set Upon This Globe That Rose Upon The Plains Of Shinar Or Along The Egyptian Nile And The Same Sorrows Rise And Set In Every Age.

Earthly Love Is A Brief And Penurious Stream, Which Only Flows In Spring, With A Long Summer Drought. The Change From A Burning Desert, Treeless, Springless, Drear, To Green Fields And Blooming Orchards In June, Is Slight In Comparison With That From The Desert Of This World's Affection To The Garden Of God, Where There Is Perpetual, Tropical Luxuriance Of Blessed Love.