Those Who Plant Trees Plant Hope.

Religion Is Life Inspired By Heavenly Love; And Life Is Something Fresh And Cheerful And Vigorous.

When April Steps Aside For May, Like Diamonds All The Rain-drops Glisten; Fresh Violets Open Every Day: To Some New Bird Each Hour We Listen.

To Her Bier Comes The Year Not With Weeping And Distress, As Mortals Do, But, To Guide Her Way To It, All The Trees Have Torches Lit; Blazing Red The Maples Shine The Woodlands Through.

Those Who Plant Trees Plant Hope.

From The First Opening Of Our Eyes, It Is The Light That Attracts Us. We Clutch Aimlessly With Our Baby Fingers At The Gossamer-motes In The Sunbeam, And We Die Reaching Out After An Ineffable Blending Of Earthly And Heavenly Beauty Which We Shall Never Fully Comprehend.