My sun sets to rise again.

They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.

That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it: This high man, with a great thing to pursue, Dies ere he knows it. That low man goes on adding one to one, His hundred's soon hit: This high man, aiming at a million, Misses an unit. That, has the world here-should he need the next, Let the world mind him! This, throws himself on God, and unperplext Seeking shall find Him.

In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.

Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.

Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.

Are there not, dear Michael, Two points in the adventure of the diver,- One, when a beggar he prepares to plunge; One, when a prince he rises with his pearl? Festus, I plunge.