The Rapture Of Pursuing Is The Prize

Three Silences There Are: The First Of Speech, The Second Of Desire, The Third Of Thought.

Safe From Temptation, Safe From Sin's Pollution, She Lives Whom We Call Dead.

The Sunshine Fails, The Shadows Grow More Dreary, And I Am Near To Fall, Infirm And Weary.

O Beautiful, Awful Summer Day, What Hast Thou Given, What Taken Away?

The Soul Never Grows Old.