Words are mighty, words are living: Serpents with their venomous stings, Or bright angels, crowding round us, With heaven's light upon their wings: E… - Adelaide Anne Procter

Hours are golden links, God's token Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them, lest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done.

Shine, ye stars of heaven, On a world of pain! See old Time destroying All our hoarded gain; All our sweetest flowers, Every stately shrine, All our hard-earned glory, Every dream divine! Shine, ye stare of heaven, On the rolling years! See how Time, consoling, Dries the saddest tears, Bids the darkest storm-clouds Pass in gentle rain, While upspring in glory Flowers and dreams again!

Rejoice, oh! grieving heart, The hours fly past; With each some sorrow dies, With each some shadow flies, Until at last The red dawn in the east Bids weary night depart, And pain is past.