One sweetly solemn thought, comes to me o'er and o'er; I am nearer home today, than I ever have been before.

Give plenty of what is given to you, And listen to pity's call. Don't think the little you give is great, And the much you get is small.

O men, grown sick with toil and care, Leave for awhile the crowded mart; O women, sinking with despair, Weary of limb and faint of heart, Forget your years to-day and come As children back to childhood's house.

I know not which I love the most, Nor which the comeliest shows, The timid, bashful violet Or the royal-hearted rose: The pansy in purple dress, The pink with cheek of red, Or the faint, fair heliotrope, who hangs, Like a bashful maid her head.

Only yield when you must, never "give up the ship," but fight on to the last "with a stiff upper lip!

All the great blessings of my life are present in my thoughts today

But alas for the dreams that round us play! / For the plans of mortal making! / And alas for the false and fickle day / That looked so fair at waking!