Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed, The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye When none but God is near.

To-morrow — oh, 'twill never be, If we should live a thousand years! Our time is all to-day, to-day, The same, though changed; and while it flies With still small voice the moments say: "To-day, to-day, be wise, be wise.

Eternity: a moment standing still for ever.

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

Here hyacinths of heavenly blue, shook their rich tresses to the morn.

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent, a day's march nearer home.

When the good man yields his breath (For the good man never dies).