A true life is at once interpreter and proof of the gospel.

Despair is infidelity and death.

Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.

Our toil is sweet with thankfulness, Our burden is our boon; The curse of earth's gray morning is The blessing of its noon.

Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers!

The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good!

All the windows of my heart I open to the day.