I sit where the leaves of the maple and the gnarled and knotted gum are circling and drifting around me.

I hold that a man had better be dead than alive when his work is done.

Yea, when mortality dissolves, Shall I not meet thine hour unawed? My house eternal in the heavens Is lighted by the smile of God!

I sit where the leaves of the maple and the gnarled and knotted gum are circling and drifting around me.

The path of duty I clearly trace, / I stand with conscience face to face, / And all her pleas allow; / Calling and crying the while for grace, - / 'Some other time, and some other place; / Oh, not to-day; not now!

Even for the dead I will not bind my soul to grief, death cannot long divide; for is it not as if the rose that climbed my garden wall had bloomed the other side?

Nothing in this low and ruined world bears the meek impress of the Son of God so surely as forgiveness.