Man Hath His Daily Work

O Nightingale, That On Yon Bloomy Spray Warblest At Eve, When All The Woods Are Still; Thou With Fresh Hope The Lover's Heart Dost Fill While The Jolly Hours Lead On Propitious May.

Time Will Run Back And Fetch The Age Of Gold.

Confidence Imparts A Wonderful Inspiration To The Possessor.

Reason Also Is Choice.

What Better Can We Do Than Prostrate Fall Before Him Reverent, And There Confess Humbly Our Faults, And Pardon Beg With Tears Watering The Ground?