Silent As Despairing Love, And

Improvement Makes Strait Roads, But The Crooked Roads Without Improvement, Are Roads Of Genius.

The Stars Are Threshed, And The Souls Are Threshed From Their Husks.

Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau! Mock On, Mock On: 'tis All In Vain! You Throw The Sand Against The Wind, And The Wind Blows It Back Again. And Every Sand Becomes A Gem Reflected In The Beams Divine; Blown Back They Blind The Mocking Eye, But Still In Israel's Paths They Shine. The Atoms Of Democritus And Newton's Particles Of Light Are Sands Upon The Red Sea Shore, Where Israel's Tents Do Shine So Bright.

First Thought Is Best In Art, Second In Other Matters.

The Pride Of The Peacock Is The Glory Of God.