I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.

No longer forward or behind I look in hope or fear, But grateful, take the good I find, The best of now and here.

Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.

Clothe with life the weak intent, Let me be the thing I meant.

the joy that you give to others is the joy that comes back to you

And sweet and far as from a star, replied a voice which shall not cease, till drowning all the noise of war, it sings the blessed song of peace

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