All hearts confess the saints elect

Press bravely onward! — not in vain Your generous trust in human kind; The good which bloodshed could not gain Your peaceful zeal shall find.

The windows of my soul I throw Wide open to the sun.

O, brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother; where pity dwells, the peace of God is there.

What is good looking, as Horace Smith remarks, but looking good? Be good, be womanly, be gentle,—generous in your sympathies, heedful of the well-being of all around you; and, my word for it, you will not lack kind words of admiration.

Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said.

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!