Heart-chilling Superstition! Thou Canst Glaze Even Pity's

Greatness And Goodness Are Not Means, But Ends! Hath He Not Always Treasures, Always Friends, The Good Great Man? Three Treasures, Love And Light, And Calm Thoughts, Regular As Infants' Breath; And Three Firm Friends, More Sure Than Day And Night, Himself, His Maker, And The Angel Death.

Come, Come Thou Bleak December Wind, And Blow The Dry Leaves From The Tree! Flash, Like A Love-thought, Thro'me, Death And Take A Life That Wearies Me.

Oh Sleep! It Is A Gentle Thing, Beloved From Pole To Pole.

If You Are Not A Thinking Man, To What Purpose Are You A Man At All?.

If You Wish To Assured Of The Truth Of Christianity, Try It. Believe, And If Thy Belief Be Right, That Insight Which Gradually Transmutes Faith Into Knowledge Will Be The Reward Of Thy Belief.