That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.

Through the ages one increasing purpose runs.

Battering the gates of heaven with the storms of prayer.

What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.

There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.

I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, "O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing?

And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.