Time is
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
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Time is
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
Too Long for those who Grieve,
Too Short for those who Rejoice;
But for those who Love,
Time is not.
- Henry Jackson van Dyke,

I mark my hours by shadow;
Mayest thou mark thine
By sunshine.

I mark my hours by shadow;
Mayest thou mark thine
By sunshine.

Give God thy heart, thy service, and thy gold; The day wears on,
and time is waxing old.
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Give God thy heart, thy service, and thy gold; The day wears on,
and time is waxing old.
- Unattributed Author,

Let others tell of storms and showers,
I'll only mark your sunny hours.

Let others tell of storms and showers,
I'll only mark your sunny hours.

If o'er the dial glides a shade, redeem
The time for lo! it passes like a dream;
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If o'er the dial glides a shade, redeem
The time for lo! it passes like a dream;
But if 'tis all a blank, then mark the loss
Of hours unblest by shadows from the cross.

O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
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O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes, how they run--
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live;
When this is known, then to divide the times--
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
So many months ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
Passed over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this!

Hours fly,
Flowers die.
New days,
New ways,
Pass by.
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Hours fly,
Flowers die.
New days,
New ways,
Pass by.
Love stays.

I am moved by the light.
[Lat., A lumine motus.]

I am moved by the light.
[Lat., A lumine motus.]

I go away and come again each day,
But thou shalt go away and ne'er return.

I go away and come again each day,
But thou shalt go away and ne'er return.