When faith is lost, when honor dies, the man is dead.
Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
The smile of God is victory.
One brave deed makes no hero.
No longer forward nor behind, I look in hope or fear; But grateful take the good I find, The best of now and here.
No lance have I, in joust or fight, To splinter in my lady’s sight; But, at her feet, how blest were I For any need of hers to die!
I'll lift you and you lift me, and we'll both ascend together.
From the death of the old the new proceeds, and the life of truth from the death of creeds.
Beauty seen is never lost, God's colors all are fast.
For somehow, not only at Christmas, but all the long year through, The joy that you give to others is the joy that comes back to you.