And These Gems Of Heav'n, Her Starry

Anon Out Of The Earth A Fabric Huge Rose, Like An Exhalation.

Just Are The Ways Of God, And Justifiable To Men; Unless There Be Who Think Not God At All.

What Better Can We Do Than Prostrate Fall Before Him Reverent, And There Confess Humbly Our Faults, And Pardon Beg With Tears Watering The Ground?

Sweet Bird, That Shun The Noise Of Folly, Most Musical, Most Melancholy!

The Greatest Burden In The World Is Superstition, Not Only Of Ceremonies In The Church, But Of Imaginary And Scarecrow Sins At Home.