The hard path of daily duty is the only path to tread, not because one is thinking of oneself, but because one wishes to forget oneself, and to think only of God, and of those that remain.

The whole of one’s nature becomes sensitive, easily wounded, easily depressed.

IT is dangerous to abandon oneself to the luxury of grief;  it deprives one of courage, and even of the wish for recovery.

Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good Morning!

For, though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

MOST persons have died before they expire – died to all earthly longings, so that the last breath is only, as it were, the locking of the door of the already deserted mansion.

LORD, make me one with Thine own faithful ones, 
Thy Saints who love Thee, and are loved by Thee;
Till the day break and till the shadows flee,

And when the sunset gates unbar, 
Shall I not see thee waiting stand, 
And, white against the evening star, 
The welcome of thy beckoning hand?

I WITH uncovered head
Salute the sacred dead,
Who went and who return not.   Say not so!