All Nature Seems At Work.

Perhaps 'tis Pretty To Force Together Thoughts So All Unlike Each Other; To Mutter And Mock A Broken Charm, To Dally With Wrong That Does No Harm.

Memory, Bosom-spring Of Joy.

I Feel As If God Had, By Giving The Sabbath, Given Fifty-two Springs In Every Year.

To All New Truths, Or Renovation Of Old Truths, It Must Be As In The Ark Between The Destroyed And The About-to-be Renovated World. The Raven Must Be Sent Out Before The Dove, And Ominous Controversy Must Precede Peace And The Olive Wreath.

That Saints Will Aid If Men Will Call; For The Blue Sky Bends Over All!