Per Croce E Grazia. God'S Grace, The Cross, Our Troubles Multiplied, Will Make Us Meet In Heaven, Full Well I Know: Yet Ere We Yield Our Breath, On Earth Below Why Need A Little Solace Be Denied? Though Seas And Mountains And Rough Ways Divide Our Feet Asunder, Neither Frost Nor Snow Can Make The Soul Her Ancient Love Forgo; Nor Chains Nor Bonds The Wings Of Thought Have Tied. Borne By These Wings With Thee I Dwell For Aye, And Weep, And Of My Dead Urbino Talk, Who, Were He Living, Now Perchance Would Be, For So 'Twas Planned, Thy Guest As Well As I: Warned By His Death Another Way I Walk To Meet Him Where He Waits To Live With Me.