Wan Night, The Shadow Goer, Came Stepping

The Truth Of Truths Is Love.

It Is Sad To See The Light Of Beauty Wane Away, Know Eyes Are Dimming, Bosoms Shrivelling, Feet Losing Their Springs, And Limbs Their Lily Roundness; But It Is Worse To Feel The Heart-spring Gone, To Lose Hope, Care Not For The Coming Thing, And Feel All Things Go To Decay Within Us.

Leave The Poor Some Time For Self-improvement. Let Them Not Be Forced To Grind The Bones Out Of Their Arms For Bread, But Have Some Space To Think And Feel Like Moral And Immortal Creatures.

Let Each Man Think Himself An Act Of God, His Mind A Thought, His Life A Breath Of God; And Let Each Try, By Great Thoughts And Good Deeds, To Show The Most Of Heaven He Hath In Him.

Where Doubt There Truth Is - 'tis Her Shadow.