If you can sit at set of sun And count the deeds that you have done And counting find oneself-denying act, one word That eased the heart of him that heard. One glance most kind, Which fell like sunshine where he went, Then you may count that day well spent.

Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!

Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?

'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls.

Thought is the soul of act.

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