What Men Call Accident Is God's Own

Youth Might Be Wise; We Suffer Less From Pains Than Pleasures.

Oh, Could We Lift The Future's Sable Shroud.

The Death-change Comes. Death Is Another Life. We Bow Our Heads At Going Out, We Think, And Enter Straight Another Golden Chamber Of The King's Larger Than This We Leave, And Lovelier. And Then In Shadowy Glimpses, Disconnect, The Story, Flower-like, Closes Thus Its Leaves. The Will Of God Is All In All. He Makes, Destroys, Remakes, For His Own Pleasure, All.

Let Us Think Less Of Men And More Of God.

Dreams Are Rudiments Of The Great State To Come. We Dream What Is About To Happen.