We ought to make the moments notes Of happy glad Thanksgiving; The hours and days, a silent praise Of music we are living.

I'm sorry for the anguished hearts that break with passion's strain, But I'm sorrier for the poor starved souls that never knew love's pain, Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they crave, For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o'er a grave.

Let no man pray that he know not sorrow, Let no soul ask to be free from pain, For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow, And the moment's loss is the lifetime's gain.

It is easy enough to be virtuous When nothing tempts you to stray; When without or within No voice of sin Is luring your soul away. But it is only a negative virtue until it is tried by fire. For the soul that is worth the treasures of the earth is the soul that resists desire.

And however dark the skies may appear, And however souls may blunder, I tell you it all will work out clear, For good lies over and under.

A weed is but an unloved flower.

Always continue the climb. It is possible for you to do whatever you choose.