What To My Saviour Shall

The Spring Is A Lively Emblem Of The Resurrection.

The World No Longer Lets Me Love, My Hope And Treasure Are Above.

It Is Reported Of The Peacock That Priding Himself In His Gay Feathers He Ruffles Them Up; But Spying His Black Feet He Soon Lets Fall His Plumes. So He That Glories In His Gifts And Adornings Should Look Upon His Corruptions, And That Will Damp His High Thoughts.

Authority Without Wisdom Is Like A Heavy Ax Without An Edge -- Fitter To Bruise Than Polish.

Sweet Words Are Like Honey, A Little May Refresh, But Too Much Gluts The Stomach.