The Glorious Lamp Of Heaven,

Trust On And Think To-morrow Will Repay; To-morrow's Falser Than The Former Day; Lies Worse; And While It Says, We Shall Be Blest With Some New Joys, Cuts Off What We Possest.

If Thou Dost Still Retain The Same Ill Habits, The Same Follies, Too, Still Thou Art Bound To Vice, And Still A Slave.

The Trumpet's Loud Clangor Excites Us To Arms.

Riches Cannot Rescue From The Grave, Which Claims Alike The Monarch And The Slave.

Rich The Treasure, Sweet The Pleasure,- Sweet Is Pleasure After Pain.