I do not own an inch of land, But all I see is mine, — The orchard and the mowing fields, The lawns and gardens fine. - Lucy Larcom

A part is greater than the whole; By hints are mysteries told. The fringes of eternity, — God's sweeping garment-fold, In that bright shred of glittering sea, I reach out for and hold.

Here sit I, as a little child; The threshold of God's door Is that clear band of chrysoprase; Now the vast temple floor, The blinding glory of the dome I bow my head before. Thy universe, O God, is home, In height or depth, to me; Yet here upon thy footstool green Content am I to be; Glad when is oped unto my need Some sea-like glimpse of Thee.

Every phase of our life belongs to us. The moon does not, except in appearance, lose her first thin, luminous curve, nor her silvery crescent, in rounding to her full. The woman is still both child and girl, in the completeness of womanly character. We have a right to our entire selves, through all the changes of this mortal state, a claim which we shall doubtless carry along with us into the unfolding mysteries of our eternal being. Perhaps in this thought lies hidden the secret of immortal youth: for a seer has said that "to grow old in heaven is to grow young."