Life Is Not Having And Getting, But

Protestantism Has The Method Of Jesus With His Secret Too Much Left Out Of Mind; Catholicism Has His Secret With His Method Too Much Left Out Of Mind; Neither Has His Unerring Balance, His Intuition, His Sweet Reasonableness. But Both Have Hold Of A Great Truth, And Get From It A Great Power.

The Bloom Is Gone, And With The Bloom Go I.

Most Men Eddy About Here And There-eat And Drink, Chatter And Love And Hate, Gather And Squander, Are Raised Aloft, Are Hurled In The Dust, Striving Blindly, Achieving Nothing; And Then They Die- Perish;-and No One Asks Who Or What They Have Been.

Coldly, Sadly Descends The Autumn Evening. The Field Strewn With Its Dank Yellow Drifts Of Wither'd Leaves, And The Elms, Fade Into Dimness Apace, Silent; Hardly A Shout From A Few Boys Late At Their Play!

The Eternal Not Ourselves That Makes For Righteousness.