Love, that outreaches to the humblest things;Work that is glad, in what it does and brings;And faith that soars upon unwearied wings.Divine the Powers that on this trio wait.Supreme their conquest, over Time and Fate.Love, Work, and Faith -- these three alone are great.
There's one sad truth in life I've foundWhile journeying east and west -The only folks we really woundAre those we love the best.
So much of love her spirit had,She found an ever-flowing springOf happiness in everything.
Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other,That passionate Love is Pain's own mother.
Our souls should be vessels receivingThe waters of love for relievingThe sorrows of men.
When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, we hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, and etched on vacant places are half-forgotten faces of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know.
We flatter those we scarcely know,We please the fleeting guest,And deal full many a thoughtless blowTo those who love us best.
Far from the city's dust and heat,I get but sounds and odors sweet.Who can wonder I love to stay,Week after week, here hidden away,In this sly nook that I love the best --This little brown house like a ground-bird's nest?
Look in; and learn the wrong, and right,From your own soul's unwritten laws.And when you question, or demur,Let Love be your Interpreter.
Between the finite and the infiniteThe missing link of Love has left a void.Supply the link, and earth with Heaven will joinIn one continued chain of endless life.
The world has a thousand creeds, and never a one have I;Not a church of my own, though a million spires are pointing the way on high.But I float on the bosom of faith, that bears me along like a river;And the lamp of my soul is alight with love for life, and the world, and the Giver.