Our State Cannot Be Severed,

When Thou Attended Gloriously From Heaven , Shalt In The Sky Appear, And From Thee Send Thy Summoning Archangels To Proclaim Thy Dread Tribunal.

Hard Are The Ways Of Truth, And Rough To Walk.

A Beardless Cynic Is The Shame Of Nature.

Cedar, And Pine, And Fir, And Branching Palm, A Sylvan Scene, And As The Ranks Ascend Shade Above Shade, A Woody Theatre Of Stateliest View.

Till Old Experience Do Attain To Something Like Prophetic Strain.