I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,- what time, what circuit first, I ask not; but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time.

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

But facts are facts and flinch not.

Pleasure must succeed to pleasure, else past pleasure turns to pain

The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!

God! Thou art love! I build my faith on that.