There Is No Flesh In Man's Obdurate

No Tree In All The Grove But Has Its Charms, Though Each Its Hue Peculiar.

Some To The Fascination Of A Name, Surrender Judgment Hoodwinked.

Built God A Church And Laughed His Word To Scorn.

It Is A Terrible Thought, That Nothing Is Ever Forgotten; That Not An Oath Is Ever Uttered That Does Not Continue To Vibrate Through All Times, In The Wide Spreading Current Of Sound; That Not A Prayer Is Lisped, That Its Record Is Not To Be Found St

Grief Is Itself A Medicine.