Love Is Like A Rose,

Consider The Lilies Of The Field Whose Bloom Is Brief:-- We Are As They; Like Them We Fade Away As Doth A Leaf.

O Lord, Who Art Our Guide Even Unto Death, Grant Us, I Pray Thee, Grace To Follow Thee Whithersoever Thou Goest. In Little Daily Duties To Which Thou Callest Us, Bow Down Our Wills To Simple Obedience.

She Gave Up Beauty In Her Tender Youth, Gave All Her Hope And Joy And Pleasant Ways; She Covered Up Her Eyes Lest They Should Gaze On Vanity, And Chose The Bitter Truth.

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.

A Pin Has A Head, But Has No Hair