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Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway.
Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway.
Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the
triteness of long familiarity; but to read more
Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the
triteness of long familiarity; but to Octavia . . . they seemed
to be written in sunbeams.
The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.
The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.
High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.
The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.
The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.
Failing yet gracious,
Slow pacing, soon homing,
A patriarch that strolls
Through the tents read more
Failing yet gracious,
Slow pacing, soon homing,
A patriarch that strolls
Through the tents of his children,
The sun as he journeys
His round on the lower
Ascents of the blue,
Washes the roofs
And the hillsides with clarity.
In climes beyond the solar road.
In climes beyond the solar road.