Peace hath higher tests of manhood, than battle ever knew.

Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.

This is truth the poet sings . . .

So all night long the storm roared on: The morning broke without a sun; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature’s geometric signs, In starry flake, and pellicle, All day the hoary meteor fell; And, when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown, On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent The blue walls of the firmament, No cloud above, no earth below,— A universe of sky and snow!

Who fathoms the Eternal Thought? Who talks of scheme and plan? The Lord is God! He needeth not The poor device of man.

A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.

Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.