God Pity The Man Of Science Who

There Is No Point Where Art So Nearly Touches Nature As When It Appears In The Form Of Words.

My God! I Thank Thee For The Bath Of Sleep, That Wraps In Balm My Weary Heart And Brain, And Drowns Within Its Waters Still And Deep My Sorrow And My Pain. I Thank Thee For My Dreams, Which Loose The Bond That Binds My Spirit To Its Daily Load, And Give It Angel Wings, To Fly Beyond Its Slumber-bound Abode.

All That Has Been Done To Weaken The Foundation Of An Implicit Faith In The Bible, As A Whole, Has Been At The Expense Of The Sense Of Religious Obligation, And At The Cost Of Human Happiness.

In My Judgment, A Great Mistake Has Been Made By Well Meaning And Zealous Men, Through Treating Error And Infidelity With Altogether Too Much Respect.

So I Take My Life As I Find It, As A Life Full Of Grand Advantages That Are Linked Indissolubly To My Noblest Happiness And My Everlasting Safety. I Believe That Infinite Love Ordained It, And That, If I Bow Willingly, Tractably, And Gladly To Its Discipline, My Father Will Take Care Of It.