Let Bygones Be Bygones.

Why Does The Sea Moan Evermore? Shut Out From Heaven It Makes Its Moan, It Frets Against The Boundary Shore; All Earth's Full Rivers Cannot Fill The Sea, That Drinking Thirsteth Still.

To Her Whose Heart Is My Heart's Quiet Home, To My First Love, My Mother, On Whose Knee I Learnt Love-lore That Is Not Troublesome.

O Passing Angel, Speed Me With A Song, A Melody Of Heaven To Reach My Heart And Rouse Me To The Race And Make Me Strong.

O Lord, Who Art Our Guide Even Unto Death, Grant Us, I Pray Thee, Grace To Follow Thee Whithersoever Thou Goest. In Little Daily Duties To Which Thou Callest Us, Bow Down Our Wills To Simple Obedience.

For There Is No Friend Like A Sister In Calm Or Stormy Weather; To Cheer One On The Tedious Way, To Fetch One If One Goes Astray, To Lift One If One Totters Down, To Strengthen Whilst One Stands.