More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.
Tho' much is taken, much abides.
That which we are, we are.
I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.