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.

Ignorance is not innocence but sin.

So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!

Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.

As is your sort of mind, So is your sort of search: You will find what you desire.

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!

Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.