A Blustering Night, A Faire Day. [a

The Resolved Mind Hath No Cares.

Dry Feet, Warme Head, Bring Safe To Bed.

The Horse That Drawes After Him His Halter, Is Not Altogether Escaped.

There Is No Man, Though Never So Little, But Sometimes He Can Hurt.

Rise, Heart; Thy Lord Is Risen. Sing His Praise Without Delays, Who Takes Thee By The Hand, That Thou Likewise With Him Mayst Rise: That, As His Death Calcined Thee To Dust, His Life May Make Thee Gold, And, Much More, Just.