If the treasures of ocean were laid at my feet,
And its depths were all robbed of its coral and pearl,
And the diamonds were brought from the mountains' retreat,
And with them were placed all the wealth of the world—
Nor silver, nor gold, nor the spoils of the sea,
Nor the garlands of fame that the world can bestow,
But a purified heart that from sin is set free,
I would ask for thee, friend, on thy journey below.
After a while, the clashing creeds
That lead to strife and hate with men,
Will yield to our superior needs,
And love will prompt the lip and pen.
Self-love exaggerates our faults as well as our virtues.
