The Love Of A Mother Is The

The Heart Should Have Fed Upon The Truth, As Insects On A Leaf, Till It Be Tinged With The Color, And Show Its Food In Every ... Minutest Fiber.

But Oh! Each Visitation Suspends What Nature Gave Me Any My Birth, My Shaping Spirit Of Imagination.

All Sympathy Not Consistent With Acknowledged Virtue Is But Disguised Selfishness.

God Is Everywhere! The God Who Framed Mankind To Be One, Mighty Family, Himself Our Father, And The World Our Home.

The Water-lily, In The Midst Of Waters, Opens Its Leaves And Expands Its Petals, At The First Pattering Of The Shower, And Rejoices In The Rain-drops With A Quicker Sympathy Than The Packed Shrubs In The Sandy Desert.