Whom The Heart Of Man Shuts Out,

Large Charity Doth Never Soil, But Only Whitens Soft White Hands.

The Holy Supper Is Kept, Indeed, In Whatso We Share With Anothers Need; Not What We Give, But What We Share, For The Gift Without The Giver Is Bare; Who Gives Himself With His Alms Feeds Three, Himself, His Hungering Neighbor, And Me.

Wealth May Be An Excellent Thing, For It Means Power, And It Means Leisure, It Means Liberty.

Life Is A Sheet Of Paper White / Whereon Each One Of Us May Write / His Word Or Two, And Then Comes Night.

His Heart Kep' Goin' Pity-pat, But Hern Went Pity-zekle.