Talk happiness. The world is sad enough without your woe. No path is wholly rough.

That each sorrow has its purpose, By the sorrowing oft unguessed, But as sure as the sun brings morning, Whatever is-is best.

Whatever is... is best.

And so for me there is no sting of death, And so the grave has lost its victory. It is but crossing-with abated breath And white, set face-a little strip of sea To find the loved ones waiting on the shore, More beautiful, more precious than before.

The art of being kind is all the world needs.

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

Why dost thou shrink from my approach, O Man? Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling To my false rival, Life? I do but bring Thee rest and calm. Then wherefore dost thou ban And curse me? Since the forming of God's plan I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing, I have bestowed sweet balm for every sting, And peace eternal for earth's stormy span.