That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.

Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.

O dearer far than light and life are dear.

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.

That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.