The Lilies Say: Behold How

I Wish I Could Remember The First Day, First Hour, First Moment Of Your Meeting Me; If Bright Or Dim The Season It Might Be; Summer Or Winter For Aught I Can Say. So, Unrecorded Did It Slip Away, So Blind Was I To See And To Forsee, So Dull To Mark The Budding Of My Tree That Would Not Blossom, Yet, For Many A May.

All Things That Pass Are Wisdom's Looking-glass.

To Me It Seems Our Duty Towards The Bible Is To Obey Its Teaching In Faith. I Do Not Think We Are Bound To Understand Or Account For All Its Utterances.

It Is Not The Deed We Do Though The Deed Be Never So Fair, But The Love That The Dear Lord Looketh For, Hidden With Lovely Care In The Heart Of The Deed So Fair.

Hope Dead Lives Nevermore, No, Not In Heaven.