Even He that died for us upon the cross, in the last hour, in the unutterable agony of death, was mindful of His mother, as if to teach us that this holy love should be our last worldly thought - the last point of earth from which the soul should take its flight for heaven.

The moon is hidden behind a cloud... On the leaves is a sound of falling rain... No other sounds than these I hear; The hour of midnight must be near... So many ghosts, and forms of fright, Have started from their graves to-night, They have driven sleep from mine eyes away: I will go down to the chapel and pray.

Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.

"Do not fear! Heaven is as near," He said, "by water as by land!"

Stay, stay at home, my heart and rest; Home-keeping hearts are happiest.

We waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate.

He spoke well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.