Yet How Proud We Are, In Daring

Experience, Like A Pale Musician, Holds A Dulcimer Of Patience In His Hand.

But The Child's Sob Curses Deeper In The Silence Than The Strong Man In His Wrath!

Many A Fervid Man Writes Books As Cold And Flat As Graveyard Stones.

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

The Soul Hath Snatched Up Mine All Faint And Weak,and Placed It By Thee On A Golden Throne,-- And That I Love (o Soul, We Must Be Meek!)is By Thee Only, Whom I Love Alone.