For Self Is The Lord

And Then When All Around Grows Dark, When We Feel Utterly Alone, When All Men Right And Left Pass Us By And Know Us Not, A Forgotten Feeling Rises In The Breast.

The Spring Of Love Becomes Hidden And Soon Filled Up.

I Know Well There Is No Comfort For This Pain Of Parting. The Wound Always Remains, But One Learns To Bear The Pain, And Learns To Thank God For What He Gave. For The Beautiful Memories Of The Past, And The Yet More Beautiful Hope For The Future.

What Ought To Be Done Is Neglected, What Ought Not To Be Done Is Done; The Desires Of Unruly, Thoughtless People Are Always Increasing.

The First Pages Of Memory Are Like The Old Family Bible. The First Leaves Are Wholly Faded And Somewhat Soiled With Handling. But, When We Turn Further, And Come To The Chapters Where Adam And Eve Were Banished From Paradise, Then, All Begins To Grow Clear And Legible.