He Who Plants A Tree, Plants A

Religion Is Life Inspired By Heavenly Love; And Life Is Something Fresh And Cheerful And Vigorous.

The Land Is Dearer For The Sea, The Ocean For The Shore.

The Beauty Of Work Depends Upon The Way We Meet It — Whether We Arm Ourselves Each Morning To Attack It As An Enemy That Must Be Vanquished Before Night Comes, Or Whether We Open Our Eyes With The Sunrise To Welcome It As An Approaching Friend.

Because Its Myriad Glimmering Plumes Like A Great Army's Stir And Wave; Because Its Golden Billows Blooms, The Poor Man's Barren Walks To Lave: Because Its Sun-shaped Blossoms Show How Souls Receive The Light Of God, And Unto Earth Give Back That Glow I Thank Him For The Goldenrod.

A Man May Make A Misanthrope Of Himself, But He Is Never One By Nature.