Give Us Grace To Listen Well.

God Hath Sworn To Lift On High Who Sinks Himself By True Humility.

Love Masters Agony; The Soul That Seemed Forsaken Feels Her Present God Again And In Her Father's Arms Contented Dies Away.

Sprinkled Along The Waste Of Years Full Many A Soft Green Isle Appears: Pause Where We May Upon The Desert Road, Some Shelter Is In Sight, Some Sacred Safe Abode.

Sweet Is The Smile Of Home; The Mutual Look When Hearts Are Of Each Other Sure.

When The Shore Is Won At Last, Who Will Count The Billow Past?