What Is Life Without The Radiance Of

Man Ever Talks, And Man Ever Dreams Of Better Days That Are Yet To Be, After Glittering Goal, That Distant Gleams, Running And Racing Untiringly. The Worldly May Grow Old And Young As It Will, But The Hope Of Man Is Improvement Still. Hope Bears Him Into Life In Her Arms, She Flutters Around The Boy's Young Bloom, The Soul Of Youth With Her Magic Warms, Nor Rests With Age In The Silent Tomb; For Ends Man His Weary Course At The Grave, There Plants He Hope O'er His Ashes To Wave.

It Is Not The Mere Station Of Life That Stamps The Value On Us, But The Manner In Which We Act Our Part.

Power Is The Most Persuasive Rhetoric.

Have Hope. Though Clouds Environs Now, And Gladness Hides Her Face In Scorn, Put Thou The Shadow From Thy Brow, - No Night But Hath Its Morn.

Death Is A Mighty Mediator. There All The Flames Of Rage Are Extinguished, Hatred Is Appeased, And Angelic Pity, Like A Weeping Sister, Bends With Gentle And Close Embrace Over The Funeral Urn.