But Oh The Heavy Change, Now Thou

Nothing Profits More Than Self-esteem, Grounded On What Is Just And Right.

What Call Thou Solitude? Is Not The Earth With Various Living Creatures, And The Air Replenished, And All These At Thy Command To Come And Play Before Thee?

At His Birth A Star, Unseen Before In Heaven, Proclaims Him Come.

Beauty Is God's Handwriting-a Wayside Sacrament.

Let Us Seek Death, Or He Not Found, Supply With Our Own Hands His Office On Ourselves; Why Stand We Longer Shivering Under Fears, That Show No End But Death, And Have The Power, Of Many Ways To Die The Shortest Choosing, Destruction With Destruction To Destroy.