I Am Thankful That In

The Only Thing Worse Than Being Blind Is Having Sight But No Vision.

Use Your Eyes As If Tomorrow You Would Be Stricken Blind. Hear The Music Of Voices, The Song Of Birds, The Mighty Strains Of An Orchestra As If You Would Be Stricken Deaf Tomorrow . . . Smell The Perfume Of Flowers, Taste With Relish Each Morsel As If Tomorrow You Could Never Smell And Taste Again. Glory In All The Facts Of Pleasure And Beauty Which The World Reveals To You.

The Hilltop Hour Would Not Be Half So Wonderful If There Were No Dark Valleys To Traverse.

Sometimes, It Is True, A Sense Of Isolation Enfolds Me Like A Cold Mist As I Sit Alone And Wait At Life’s Shut Gate. Beyond There Is Light, And Music, And Sweet Companionship; But I May Not Enter. Fate, Silent, Pitiless, Bars The Way…silence Sits Immense Upon My Soul. Then Comes Hope With A Smile And Whispers, ‘there Is Joy Is Self-forgetfulness.’ So I Try To Make The Light In Others’ Eyes My Sun, The Music In Others; Ears My Symphony, The Smile On Others’ Lips My Happiness.

No Loss By Flood And Lightning, No Destruction Of Cities And Temples By The Hostile Forces Of Nature, Has Deprived Man Of So Many Noble Lives And Impulses As Those Which His Intolerance Has Destroyed.