What you can do or dream you can begin it; Boldness has genius, power and magic in it; Every man's life is a fairy-tale written by Only engage and then the mind grows heated; Begin, and the work will be completed. God's fingers. As ships meet at sea, a moment together, when words of greeting must be spoken, and then away into the deep, so men meet in this world; and I think we should cross no man's path without hailing him, and, if he needs, giving him supplies. Look not at life by that dim light Which through thy curtained window creeps. What can a soul discern that weeps? Go, share the fight, leave self behind; Give others joy, and thou shalt find, Even in affliction, peace of mind; In weakness, heavenly might. SENTIMENTS FOR ALBUMS. Be noble in every thought And in every deed! May the chains of friendship formed by the links which are dropped here, serve to 843 He who is false to present duty breaks a thread in the loom, and will find the flaw when he may have forgotten its cause. heard in heaven. The mould of a man's fortune is in his own hands. unite you more closely in spirit with the Guard well thy thoughts; our thoughts are friends who have worked it. May each link be brought to a white heat in the fires of Love; and, forged on the anvils of Truth, may they be strong as iron, yet light as air; keeping you bravely to the duties of Life. And when the chain of human bondage shall be broken, may they become flowers of eternal brightness in the gardens from whence cometh exceeding peace. We may write our names in Albums, In that Book of life, God's Album, Every person is responsible for all the good within the scope of his abilities, and for no more, and none can tell whose sphere is the largest. Honor is the hill which few may hope to climb; Duty is the path that all may tread. * Greatly begin! though thou have time I ask not a life for the dear one All sunshine, as others have done, But that life may have just enough shadow Get thy spindle and thy distaff ready, and I everywhere am thinking God will send thee flax. Every one is the son of his own works. Of thy blue eyes' sweet smile; |