For One Man Is My

My Heart Is Like A Singing Bird.

Why One Day In The Country Is Worth A Month In Town; Is Worth A Day And A Year Of The Dusty, Musty, Lag-last Fashion That Days Drone Elsewhere.

I Watched A Rose-bud Very Long Brought On By Dew And Sun And Shower, Waiting To See The Perfect Flower: Then When I Thought It Should Be Strong It Opened At The Matin Hour And Fell At Even-song.

I Have No Wit, No Words, No Tears; My Heart Within Me Like A Stone Is Numb'd Too Much For Hopes Or Fears; Look Right, Look Left, I Dwell Alone; I Lift Mine Eyes, But Dimm'd With Grief No Everlasting Hills I See; My Life Is In The Falling Leaf: O Jesus, Quicken Me.

Were There No God, We Would Be In This Glorious World With Grateful Hearts, And No One To Thank.