No grief so soft, no pain so sweet, as love's delicious melancholy.
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow; work with a stout heart and resolute will.
Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us; from all the petty vexations that meet us; from the sin-promptings that assail us; from the world-sirens that lure us to ill
Love is the greatest of educators.