There Will Presently Be No Room In

It's A Curious Thing, This Thing We Call Civilization...we Think It Is An Affair Of Epochs, And Nations. It's Really An Affair Of Individuals. One Brother Will Be Civilized And The Other A Barbarian...all Civilization Comes Through Literature Now, Especially In Our Country. A Greek Got His Civilization By Talking And Looking, And In Some Measure A Parisian May Still Do It. But We, Who Live Remote From History And Monuments, We Must Read Or We Must Barbarise.

Christ And The Life Of Christ Is At This Moment Inspiring The Literature Of The World As Never Before, And Raising It Up A Witness Against Waste And Want And War. It May Confess Him, As In Tolstoi's Work It Does, Or It May Deny Him, But It Cannot Exclude Him; And In The Degree That It Ignores His Spirit, Modern Literature Is Artistically Inferior. In Other Words, All Good Literature Is Now Christmas Literature.

Lord, For The Erring Thoughtnot Into Evil Wrought:lord, For The Wicked Willbetrayed And Baffled Still:for The Heart From Itself Kept,our Thanksgiving Accept.

How Is It The Great Pieces Of Good Luck Fall To Us?

Lord, For The Erring Thought Not Unto Evil Wrought: Lord, For The Wicked Will Betrayed, And Baffled Still: For The Heart From Itself Kept, Our Thanksgiving Accept. For Ignorant Hopes That Were Broken To Our Blind Prayer: For Pain, Death, Sorrow, Sent Unto Our Chastisement: For All Loss Of Seeming Good, Quicken Our Gratitude.