Death Hath So Many Doors

Charity And Treating Begin At Home.

Joys As Winged Dreams Fly Fast, / Why Should Sadness Longer Last? / Grief Is But A Wound To Woe; / Gentlest Fair, Mourn, Mourn No Moe.

O Great Corrector Of Enormous Times, Shaker Of O'er-rank States, Thou Grand Decider Of Dusty And Old Titles, That Healest With Blood The Earth When It Is Sick, And Curest The World O' The Pleurisy Of People.

Then, Everlasting Love , Restrain Thy Will; 'tis God -like To Have Power, But Not To Kill.

The Coward's Weapon, Poison.