Father, perfect my trust; Let my spirit feel in death, That her feet are firmly set On the rock of a living faith! - Phoebe Caryary

And though hard be the task,
"Keep a stiff upper lip."

Her washing ended with the day, Yet lived she at its close,
And passed the long, long night away In darning ragged hose. But when the sun in all its state Illumed the Eastern skies,
She passed about the kitchen grate And went to making pies.

Nearer my Father's house, Where the many mansions be,
Nearer the great white throne, Nearer the crystal sea. Nearer the bound of life, Where we lay our burdens down,
Nearer leaving the cross, Nearer gaining the crown.