If Thou Must Love Me, Let It

Beloved, Let Us Live So Well Our Work Shall Still Be Better For Our Love, And Still Our Love Be Sweeter For Our Work.

O, Brothers! Let Us Leave The Shame And Sin Of Taking Vainly In A Plaintive Mood, The Holy Name Of Grief--holy Herein, That, By The Grief Of One, Came All Our Good.

Pray, Pray, Thou Who Also Weepest,-- And The Drops Will Slacken So; Weep, Weep--and The Watch Thou Keepest, With A Quicker Count Will Go. Think,--the Shadow On The Dial For The Nature Most Undone, Marks The Passing Of The Trial, Proves The Presence Of The Sun.

If I Leave All For Thee, Wilt Thou Exchange And Be All To Me?

World's Use Is Cold, World's Love Is Vain, World's Cruelty Is Bitter Bane; But Is Not The Fruit Of Pain.