Gratitude, In Itself, Is Heaven.

In The Universe, There Are Things That Are Known, And Things That Are Unknown, And In Between, There Are Doors.

Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine, A Clothing For The Soul Divine. Under Every Grief And Pine Runs A Joy With Silken Twine.

God Only Acts And Is, In Existing Beings Or Men.

And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time Walk Upon England's Mountains Green? And Was The Holy Lamb Of God On England's Pleasant Pastures Seen?

The Countless Gold Of A Merry Heart, The Rubies And Pearls Of A Loving Eye, The Indolent Never Can Bring To The Mart, Nor The Secret Hoard Up In His Treasury.