And May You Happy Live,

My Heart Is Like A Singing Bird Whose Nest Is In A Water'd Shoot; My Heart Is Like An Apple-tree Whose Boughs Are Bent With Thick-set Fruit.

Oh That It Were With Me As With The Flower; Blooming On Its Own Tree For Butterfly And Bee Its Summer Morns: That I Might Bloom Mine Hour A Rose In Spite Of Thorns. Oh That My Work Were Done As Birds' That Soar Rejoicing In The Sun: That When My Time Is Run And Daylight Too, I So Might Rest Once More Cool With Refreshing Dew.

And Sometimes I Remember Days Of Old When Fellowship Seemed Not So Far To Seek, And All The World And I Seemed Much Less Cold, And At The Rainbow's Foot Lay Surely Gold, And Hope Felt Strong, And Life Itself Not Weak.

To Her Whose Heart Is My Heart's Quiet Home, To My First Love, My Mother, On Whose Knee I Learnt Love-lore That Is Not Troublesome.

Trust Me, I Have Not Earned Your Dear Rebuke, I Love, As You Would Have Me, God The Most; Would Lose Not Him, But You, Must One Be Lost, Nor With Lot's Wife Cast Back A Faithless Look Unready To Forego What I Forsook; This Say I, Having Counted Up The Cost, This, Tho' I Be The Feeblest Of God's Host, The Sorriest Sheep Christ Shepherds With His Crook. Yet While I Love My God The Most, I Deem That I Can Never Love You Overmuch; I Love Him More, So Let Me Love You Too; Yea, As I Apprehend It, Love Is Such I Cannot Love You If I Love Not Him. I Cannot Love Him If I Love Not You.