A Sweet Disorder In The

Thou Art My Life, My Love, My Heart, The Very Eyes Of Me: And Hast Command Of Every Part To Live And Die For Thee.

But Ne'er The Rose Without The Thorn.

Seldom Comes Glory Till A Man Be Dead.

Before Man's Fall The Rose Was Born,st. Ambrose Says, Without The Thorn;but For Man's Fault Then Was The Thornwithout The Fragrant Rose-bud Born; But Ne'er The Rose Without The Thorn.

Humble We Must Be, If To Heaven We Go; High Is The Roof There, But The Gate Is Low.