Greate God: within whose symple essence, wee
nothyng but that, which ys thy self can fynde:
when on thyself thou dydd'st reflect thy mynde,
thy thought was God, which tooke the forme of thee:
And when this God thus borne, thou lov'st, & hee
lov'd thee agayne, with passion of lyke kynde,
(as lovers syghes, which meete, become one wynde,)
both breath'd one spryght of aequall deitye.
Aeternall father, whence theis twoe do come
and wil'st the tytle of my father have,
and heavenly knowledge in my mynde engrave,

1. Great God, the followers of thy Son, We bow be-
2. O grant thy blessing here today! O give thy
fore thy mercy seat, To worship thee, the
people joy and peace! The tokens of thy
Holy One, And pour our wishes at thy feet.
love display, And favor that shall never cease.

3. We seek the truth which Jesus brought;
His path of light we long to tread.
Here be his holy doctrines taught,
And here their purest influence shed.

4. May faith and hope and love abound;
Our sins and errors be forgiven;
And we, in thy great day, be found

Meditation 1

Great God, how short's mans time; each minute speaks
He is but dust, and that his Vessel leaks.
Each moment of my momenta[r]y time,
Does plainly tell me 'tis not mine, but thine.
He gives me time to live, and verily
Ere long I shall have likewise time to dye.

Meditation 2

After the time of Life is ended, then
Oh there's Another Time for sons of men;
A great ETERNITY will surely come,
Of blessed Happiness, or cursed Doom.
Lord, grant I may be one of those that may
Enjoy the first with thee another day.

Great Gawd, I'm feelin' bad,
I ain't got the man that I thought I had!

" Great father Alighier, if from the skies
This thy disciple prostrate thou dost see
Before thy gravestone, shaken with deep sighs,
O turn thou not in wrathfulness from me!
O of thy kindness, favoring pure desires,
Illuminate me with a ray of thine;
Must who to pristine, deathless fame aspires
Take arms 'gainst envy and each fell design? "
" I did so, son, to my great sorrow, for
Thereby the names of men too vile to tread
Under my feet are heard for evermore.
If thou dost trust in me, why droop thy head?

Great churches aren't built of stone and steel,
Of mortar, brick and sand;
They rise from human hearts that feel
And love and understand.

Their greatest treasures are not kept
In guarded banks or vaults,
But in the will that never slept
Until it cured its faults.

Great churches don't happen; they are built
By people large and small
Who press their fortunes to the hilt,
Respond to duty's call.

Was spring at Naniwa
in Tsu Province
a dream?
Wind blows
over the withered reeds' leaves.

Great big dog,
Head upon his toes;
Tiny little bee
Settles on his noes.

Great big dog
Thinks it is a fly.
Never says a word,
Winks very sly.

Tiny little bee,
Tickles dog's nose—
Thinks like as not
'Tis a pretty rose.

Dog smiles a smile,
Winks his other eye,
Chuckles to himself
How he'll catch a fly.

Then he makes a snap,
Very quick and spry,
Does his level best,
But doesn't catch the fly.

Tiny little bee,
Alive and looking well;
Great big dog,
Mostly gone to swell.

The gray waves rock against the gray skyline,
And break complaining on the long gray sand,
Here where I sit, who cannot understand
Their voice of pain, nor this dumb pain of mine;

For I, who thought to fare till my days end,
Armed sorrow-proof in sorrow, having known
How hearts bleed slow when brave lips make no moan,
How Life can torture, how Death may befriend

When Love entreats him hasten, — even I,
Who feared no human anguish that may be,
I cannot bear the loud grief of the sea,
I cannot bear the still grief of the sky.

The gray tide flows and flounders in the rocks
Along the crannies up the swollen sand.
Far out the reefs lie naked — dunes and blocks
Low in the watery wind. A shaft of land
Going to sea thins out the western strand.

It rains, and all along and always gulls
Career sea-screaming in and weather-glossed.
It blows here, pushing round the cliff; in lulls
Within the humid stone a motion lost
Ekes out the flurried heart-beat of the coast.

It blows and rains a pale and whirling mist
This summer morning. I that hither came —