What is time? The shadow on the dial, the striking of the clock, the running of the sand, day and night, summer and winter, months, years, centuries-these are but arbitrary and outward signs, the measure of Time, not Time itself. Time is the Life of the Soul.

Ne speaketh not; and yet there lies a conversation in his eyes.

Make not thyself the judge of any man.

Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.

All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.

Then read from the treasured volume the poem of thy choice, and lend to the rhyme of the poet the beauty of thy voice.

The Nile, forever new and old, Among the living and the dead, Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled.