And Write About It, Goddess,

We Think Our Fathers Fools, So Wise We Grow. Our Wiser Sons, No Doubt Will Think Us So.

Hope Humbly Then; With Trembling Pinions Soar; Wait The Great Teacher, Death, And God Adore; What Future Bliss He Gives Not Thee To Know, But Gives That Hope To Be Thy Blessing Now.

The Best Way To Prove The Clearness Of Our Mind, Is By Showing Its Faults; As When A Stream Discovers The Dirt At The Bottom, It Convinces Us Of The Transparency And Purity Of The Water.

The Hog That Ploughs Not, Not Obeys Thy Call, Lives On The Labours Of This Lord Of All.

We May See The Small Value God Has For Riches, By The People He Gives Them To.