Emily Dickinson — Life—is what we make of it

698 Life—is what we make of it Death—we do not know Christ's acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though He—would trust no stranger Other—could betray Just His own endorsement That—sufficeth Me All the other Distance He hath traversed first No New Mile remaineth Far as Paradise His sure foot preceding Tender Pioneer Base must be the Coward Dare not venture—now