They come transfigured back, Secure from change in their high-hearted ways, Beautiful evermore, and with the rays Of morn on their white Shields of Expectation!

Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan, Repeating us by rote.

There is no better ballast for keeping the mind steady on its keel, and saving it from all risk of crankiness, than business.

The little that we do Is but half-nobly true; With our laborious hiving What men call treasure, and the gods call dross, Life seems a jest of Fate's contriving…

And I feel that something's coming, and it's not just in the wind. It's more than just tomorrow, it's more than where we've been, It offers me a promise, it's …

Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee.

As long as I breathe I hope. As long as I breathe I shall fight for the future, that radiant future, in which man, strong and beautiful, will become master of …