His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.

Mark the babe not long accustomed to this breathing world; One that hath barely learned to shape a smile, though yet irrational of soul, to grasp with tiny finger - to let fall a tear; And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, becoming, as might seem. The outward functions of intelligent man.

A brotherhood of venerable trees.

Faith is a passionate intuition.

One of those heavenly days that cannot die.

Spires whose "silent finger points to heaven."

Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.