If All Were Rich, Gold Would Be

Stars Which Stand As Thick As Dewdrops On The Field Of Heaven.

True Faith Nor Biddeth Nor Abideth Form, The Bended Knee, The Eye Uplift; Is All Which Men Need Render; All Which God Can Bear. What To The Faith Are Forms? A Passing Speck, A Crow Upon The Sky.

America, Thou Half-brother Of The World; With Something Good And Bad Of Every Land.

The Temples Perish, But The God Still Lives.

Hell Is More Bearable Than Nothingness.