A Pin Has A Head,

This Life Is But The Passage Of A Day, This Life Is But A Pang And All Is Over; But In The Life To Come Which Fades Not Away Every Love Shall Abide And Every Lover.

Gone Were But The Winter, Come Were But The Spring, I Would Go To A Covert Where The Birds Sing; Where In The Whitethorn Singeth A Thrush, And A Robin Sings In The Holly-bush. Full Of Fresh Scents Are The Budding Boughs Arching High Over A Cool Green House: Full Of Sweet Scents, And Whispering Air Which Sayeth Softly: We Spread No Snare; Here Dwell In Safety, Here Dwell Alone, With A Clear Stream And A Mossy Stone. Here The Sun Shineth Most Shadily; Here Is Heard An Echo Of The Far Sea, Though Far Off It Be.

For One Man Is My World Of All The Men This Wide World Holds; O Love, My World Is You.

Obedience Is The Fruit Of Faith; Patience Is The Early Blossom On The Tree Of Faith.

All Things That Pass Are Wisdom's Looking-glass.