Sorrows Come To Stretch Out Places In

That In The Human Plan Nothing Is Worth The Making If It Does Not Make The Man.

There Is A Destiny Which Makes Us Brothers; None Goes His Way Alone. All That We Send Into The Lives Of Others Comes Back Into Our Own.

By A Divine Paradox, Wherever There Is One Slave There Are Two

Fight Ever On: This Earthly Stuff If Used God’s Way Will Be Enough. Face To The Firing Line O Friend Fight Out Life’s Battle To The End. One Soldier, When The Fight Was Red, Threw Down His Broken Sword And Fled. Another Snatched It, Won The Day, With What His Comrade Flung Away.

We Have Committed The Golden Rule To Memory; Let Us Now Commit It To Life.