Never Yet Was A Springtime, When The

Theres Nothing Half So Pleasant As Coming Home Again.

In Very Truth It Is The Unattained Which Gives Zest To The Commonplace And Brims The Cup Of Our Daily Life With Keenest Joy.

At Christmas-tide The Open Hand Scatters Its Bounty O'er Sea And Land, And None Are Left To Grieve Alone, For Love Is Heaven And Claims Its Own.

I Think That The Almighty Gave Springtime To A Tired World So That Its Peoples Might Know Rest. I Think That He Gave It To A Troubled World So That The World's Inhabitants Might Find Peace. I Think He Gave It To A Discouraged World So That Hope And Faith Might Be Reborn!

Let Every Birthday Be A Festival, A Time When The Gladness Of The House Finds Expression In Flowers, In Gifts, In A Little Fête. Never Should A Birthday Be Passed Over Without Note, Or As If It Were A Common Day, Never Should It Cease To Be A Garlanded Milestone In The Road Of Life.