One ship drives east and another drives west With the selfsame winds that blow. Tis the set of the sails And not the gales Which tells us the way to go. Like the winds of the seas are the ways of fate, As we voyage along through the life: Tis the set of a soul That decides its goal, And not the calm or the strife.

Mourn not for the vanished ages with their grand, heroic men, who dwell in history's pages and live in the poets pen for the grandest times are before us and the world is yet to see the noblest work of this old earth in the men that are to be.

When the heart grows weary, all things seem dreary; When the burden grows heavy, the way seems long. Thank God for sending kind death as an ending, Like a grand Amen to a minor song.

Trust in your own untried capacity.

I know there are no errors, In the great Eternal plan.

Do you wish the world were happy? Then remember day by day, just to scatter seeds of kindness as you pass along the way. . . .

There is room in the halls of pleasure for a large and lordly train, but one by one we must all file on through the narrow aisles of pain.