On all things created remaineth the half-effaced signature of God, Somewhat of fair and good, though blotted by the finger of corruption.

There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.

Tho' much is taken, much abides.

On all things created remaineth the half-effaced signature of God, Somewhat of fair and good, though blotted by the finger of corruption.

I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro' darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.