See That You Buy The

When The Race Is Ended, And The Play Is Either Won Or Lost, And Ye Are In The Utmost Circle And Border Of Time, And Shall Put Your Foot Within The March Of Eternity, All The Good Things Of Your Short Nightdream Shall Seem To You Like Ashes Of A Blaze Of Thorns Or Straw.

Ye Have Lost A Child--nay, She Is Not Lost To You, Who Is Found To Christ; She Is Not Sent Away, But Only Sent Before; Like Unto A Star, Which Going Out Of Our Sight, Doth Not Die And Vanish, But Shineth In Another Hemisphere.

Why Should I Tremble At The Plough Of My Lord, That Maketh Deep Furrows On My Soul? I Know He Is No Idle Husbandman, He Purposeth A Crop.

We Take Nothing To The Grave With Us, But A Good Or Evil Conscience... It Is True, Terrors Of Conscience Cast Us Down; And Yet Without Terrors Of Conscience We Cannot Be Raised Up Again.

There Is Nothing Left To Us But To See How We May Be Approved Of Him, And How We May Roll The Weight Of Our Weak Souls In Well-doing Upon Him, Who Is God Omnipotent.