Talk not of the river or lake To those who have looked on the sea.

The splendid discontent of God With chaos made the world. And from the discontent of man The worlds best progress springs.

We flatter those we scarcely know, We please the fleeting guest; And deal full many a thoughtless blow, To those who love us best. Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. There is new strength, repose of mind, and inspiration in fresh apparel.

Talk faith. The world is better off without, Your uttered ignorance and morbid doubt.

You are your own devil, you are your own God, You fashioned the paths that your footsteps have trod, And no one can save you from error or sin, Until you shall hark to the Spirit within.

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.

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.