Our Hearts Are Lamps For Ever Burning.

We Are All Architects Of Faith, Ever Living In These Walls Of Time.

Sang In Tones Of Deep Emotion Songs Of Love And Songs Of Longing.

Let Us, Then, Be What We Are; Speak What We Think; And In All Things Keep Ourselves Loyal To Truth.

It Is The Harvest Moon! On Gilded Vanes And Roofs Of Villages, On Woodland Crests And Their Aerial Neighborhoods Of Nests Deserted, On The Curtained Window-panes Of Rooms Where Children Sleep, On Country Lanes And Harvest-fields, Its Mystic Splendor Rests.

The Day Is Done; And Slowly From The Scene The Stooping Sun Upgathers His Spent Shafts, And Puts Them Back Into His Golden Quiver!