Children Are God's Apostles, Sent Forth, Day

No Man Is Born Into The World Whose Work Is Not Born With Him. There Is Always Work, And Tools To Work With, For Those Who Will, And Blessed Are The Horny Hands Of Toil. The Busy World Shoves Angrily Aside The Man Who Stands With Arms Akimbo Until Occasion Tells Him What To Do; And He Who Waits To Have His Task Marked Out Shall Die And Leave His Errand Unfulfilled.

Love Lives On, And Hath A Power To Bless When They Who Loved Are Hidden In The Grave.

Two Meanings Have Our Lightest Fantasies,- One Of The Flesh, And Of The Spirit One.

Here Was A Type Of The True Elder Race, And One Of Plutarch's Men Talked With Us Face To Face.

O Visionary World, Condition Strange, Where Naught Abiding Is But Only Change.