God Planteth In Mortal Men

There Is No Sickness Worse For Me Than Words That To Be Kind Must Lie.

Jars Neither Of Wine Nor Of Water Shall Fail In The Houses Of The Rich.

Take Courage; Pain's Extremity Soon Ends.

The Anvil Of Justice Is Planted Firm, And Fate Who Makes The Sword Does The Forging In Advance.

Justice Shines In Very Smoky Homes, And Honors The Righteous; But The Gold-spangled Mansions Where The Hands Are Unclean She Leaves With Eyes Averted.