Strange As It May Seem,

When A Companion's Heart Of Itself Overflows, The Best One Can Do Is To Do Nothing.

There Is Nothing Namable But That Some Men Will, Or Undertake To, Do It For Pay.

And So, Through All The Thick Mists Of The Dim Doubts In My Mind, Divine Intuitions Now And Then Shoot, Enkindling My Fog With A Heavenly Ray. And For This I Thank God; For All Have Doubts; Many Deny; But Doubts Or Denials, Few Along With Them, Have Intuitions. Doubts Of All Things Earthly, And Intuitions Of Some Things Heavenly; This Combination Makes Neither Believer Nor Infidel, But Makes A Man Who Regards Them Both With Equal Eye.

Hope Is The Struggle Of The Soul, Breaking Loose From What Is Perishable, And Attesting Her Eternity.

The Terrors Of Truth And Dart Of Death To Faith Alike Are Vain.