See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!

When Christ ascended Triumphantly from star to star He left the gates of Heaven ajar.

Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

If we could read the secret history of our enemies.

Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!

Stars of earth, these golden flowers; emblems of our own great resurrection; emblems of the bright and better land.

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day! The frontier town and citadel of night!