The Dead are like the stars by day; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky.

The Dove, on silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.

Prayer moves the arm Which moves the world, And brings salvation down.

Hymns should have unity, graduation and mutual dependence in the thoughts, a conscious progress, a sense of completeness and be easily understood.

A mother's love — how sweet the name! What is a mother's love? — A noble, pure and tender flame, Enkindled from above, To bless a heart of earthly mould; The warmest love that can grow cold; This is a mother's love.

Blue thou art, intensely blue; Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?

Tis human actions paint the chart of time.