Life Is A Journey, And Its Fairest Flowers Lie In Our Path Beneath Pride'S Trampling Feet; Oh, Let Us Stoop To Virtue'S Humble Bowers, And Gather Those, Which, Faded, Still Are Sweet. These Way-Side Blossoms Amulets Are Of Price; They Lead To Pleasure, Yet From Dangers Warn; Turn Toil To Bliss, This Earth To Paradise, And Sunset Death To Heaven'S Eternal Morn. A Good Deed Done Hath Memory'S Blest Perfume, A Day Of Self-Forgetfulness, All Given To Holy Charity, Hath Perennial Bloom That Goes, Undrooping, Up From Earth To Heaven. Forgiveness, Too, Will Flourish In The Skies Justice, Transplanted Thither, Yields Fair Fruit; And If Repentance, Borne To Heaven, Dies, 'Tis That No Tears Are There To Wet Its Root.