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

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

He is wisest, who only gives, True to himself, the best he can: Who drifting on the winds of praise, The inward monitor obeys. And with the boldness that confuses fear Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer.

And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.

With our sympathy for the wrongdoer we need the old Puritan and Quaker hatred of wrongdoing; with our just tolerance of men and opinions a righteous abhorrence of sin.

Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.

The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good!