Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure.
Best be yourself, imperial, plain, and true.
The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
Desire joy and thank God for it. Renounce it, if need be, for other's sake. That's joy beyond joy.
Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.