The sun, which passeth through pollutions and itself remains as
pure as before.

The sun, which passeth through pollutions and itself remains as
pure as before.

The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.

The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.

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 sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.

The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.

She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of read more

She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.

Behold him setting in his western skies,
The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise.

Behold him setting in his western skies,
The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise.

Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.

Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.

If you want a place in the sun, you've got to put up with a few blisters.

If you want a place in the sun, you've got to put up with a few blisters.

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.