Your Fear Of Death Is But The

The Soul Is An Embryo In The Body Of Man, And The Day Of Death Is The Day Of Awakening, For It Is The Great Era Of Labour And The Rich Hour Of Creation.

O Love, Whose Lordly Hand Has Bridled My Desires, And Raised My Hunger And My Thirst To Dignity And Pride, Let Not The Strong In Me And The Constant Eat The Bread Or Drink The Wine That Tempt My Weaker Self. Let Me Rather Starve, And Let My Heart Parch With Thirst, And Let Me Die And Perish, Ere I Stretch My Hand To A Cup You Did Not Fill, Or A Bowl You Did Not Bless.

For That Which Is Boundless In You Abides In The Mansion Of The Sky, Whose Door Is The Morning Mist, And Whose Windows Are The Songs And The Silences Of Night.

For Life Goes Not Backward, Nor Tarries With Yesterday.

When We Turn To One Another For Counsel We Reduce The Number Of Our Enemies.