You Know How Little While We Have

Oh Thou, Who Man Of Baser Earth Didst Make, And Ev'n With Paradise Devise The Snake; For All The Sin Wherewith The Face Of Man Is Blackened - Man's Forgiveness Give And Take!

Dead Yesterdays And Unborn Tomorrows, Why Fret About It, If Today Be Sweet.

The Moving Finger Writes; And Having Writ, Moves On.

Ah, Take The Cash, And Let The Credit Go, Nor Heed The Rumble Of A Distant Drum!

Wake! For The Sun, Who Scatter'd Into Flight The Stars Before Him From The Field Of Night, Drives Night Along With Them From Heav'n, And Strikes The Sultan's Turret With A Shaft Of Light