There is in every human heart Some not completely barren part, Where seeds of truth and love might grow, And flowers of generous virtue flow; To plant, to watch, to water there, This be our duty, be our care.
In the cross of Christ I glory,Towering o'er the wrecks of time;All the light of sacred storyGathers round its head sublime.
In the cross of Christ I glory,
A happy family is but an ealier heaven.
Chance and change are busy ever;Man decays, and ages move;But His mercy waneth never;God is wisdom, God is love.
Sleep is no servant of the will; it has caprices of its own; when courted most, it lingers still; when most pursued, 'tis swiftly gone.
The talents lost--the moments run
To waste--the sins of act, of thought,
Ten thousand deeds of folly done,
And countless virtues cherish'd not.
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