O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road!

Oh, what a glory doth this world put on, for him who with a fervent heart goes forth under the bright and glorious sky, and looks on duties well performed, and days well spent.

They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.

I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart

Love gives itself; it is not bought.

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.

O suffering, sad humanity! O ye afflicted ones, who lie Steeped to the lips in misery, Longing, yet afraid to die, Patient, though sorely tried!