When I'm Carried Away, Isn't

She Wavers, She Hesitates; In One Word — She Is A Woman.

When I'm Carried Away, Isn't It Clear That My Heart Contradicts My Mouth?

Vice, Like Virtue, Grows In Small Steps, And No True Innocence Can Ever Fall At Once To Deepest Guilt.

How Good Is God! How Sweet His Yoke!

I Have Loved Him Too Much Not To Hate