Teach Erring Man To Spurn

Those Who Think Must Govern Those That Toil.

As Some Tall Cliff That Lifts Its Awful Form, Swells From The Vale, And Midway Leaves The Storm,- Though Round Its Breast The Rolling Clouds Are Spread, Eternal Sunshine Settles On Its Head.

The Mind Is Ever Ingenious In Making Its Own Distress.

The First Blow Is Half The Battle.

Truth From His Lips Prevailed With Double Sway, And Fools, Who Came To Scoff, Remained To Pray.