Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy

The Will Is Always Near, Dear, Though The Feet Vary.

Beauty Is Not Caused, It Is; Chase It And It Ceases, Chase It Not And It Abides.

What Shall We Do My Darling, When Trial Grows More, And More, When The Dim, Lone Light Expires, And It's Dark, So Very Dark, And We Wander, And Know Not Where, And Cannot Get Out Of The Forest - Whose Is The Hand To Help Us, And To Lead, And Forever Guide Us? ... Where Do You Think I've Strayed And From What New Errand Returned. I Have Come From To And Fro, And Walking Up And Down The Same Place That Satan Hailed From When God Asked Where He'd Been.

Publication - Is The Auction Of The Mind.

A Toad, Can Die Of Light - Death Is The Common Right Of Toads And Men