Much Of The Work Of Every Life

The Flag Of Our Stately Battles, Not Struggles Of Wrath And Greed, Its Stripes Were A Holy Lesson, Its Spangles A Deathless Creed: 't Was Red With The Blood Of Freemen And White With The Fear Of The Foe; And The Stars That Fight In Their Courses 'gainst Tyrants Its Symbols Know.

In The Beauty Of The Lilies Christ Was Born Across The Sea, With A Glory In His Bosom That Transfigures You And Me; As He Died To Make Men Holy, Let Us Die To Make Men Free, While God Is Marching On.

In Virgil's Account Of The Good Housewife, Who Rises Early In Order To Measure Out The Work Of The Household, And In Solomon's Description Of The Thrifty Woman Of His Time, One Sees The Value Set Upon Feminine Industry And Economy In Times Far Removed From Our Own.

The Broken Eggshell Of A Civilization Which Time Has Hatched And Devoured.

Familiarity So Dulls The Edge Of Perception As To Make Us Least Acquainted With Things Forming Part Of Our Daily Life.