Conscience Is The Pulse Of

Joy Is The Sweet Voice, Joy The Luminous Cloud. We In Ourselves Rejoice! And Thence Flows All That Charms Or Ear Or Sight, All Melodies The Echoes Of That Voice, All Colours A Suffusion From That Light.

The Best Part Of Human Language, Properly So Called, Is Derived From Reflection On The Acts Of The Mind Itself.

O Pure Of Heart! Thou Needest Not Ask Of Me What This Strong Music In The Soul May Be!

In What Way, Or By What Manner Of Working, God Changes A Soul From Evil To Good, How He Impregnates The Barren Rock--the Priceless Gems And Gold--is To The Human Mind An Impenetrable Mystery, In All Cases Alike.

In Your Intercourse With Sects, The Sublime And Abstruse Doctrines Of Christian Belief Belong To The Church; But The Faith Of The Individual, Centred In His Heart, Is, Or May Be, Collateral To Them. Faith Is Subjective.