And when midst fallen London, they survey The stone where Alexander's ashes lay, Shall own with humbled pride the lesson must By Time's slow finger written in the dust.

The awakenings of remorse, virtuous shame and indignation, the glow of moral approbation if they do not lead to action, grow less and less vivid every time they occur, till at length the mind grows absolutely callous.

And when midst fallen London, they survey The stone where Alexander's ashes lay, Shall own with humbled pride the lesson must By Time's slow finger written in the dust.

Man is the nobler growth our realms supply, And souls are ripened in our northern sky.

But every act in consequence of our faith, strengthens faith.

Time deals gently with me; and though I feel that I descend, the slope is easy.

Say not 'Good-night' but in some brighter clime, bid me 'Good-morning.'