God Will Judge Us By Our Own

The Bud, Though Plucked, Would Not Be Withered, Only Transplanted To A Fitter Soil To Ripen And Blow Beneath A Brighter Sun; And Though I Might Not Cherish And Watch My Child's Unfolding Intellect, He Would Be Snatched Away From All The Suffering And Sins Of Earth; And My Understanding Tells Me This Would Be No Great Evil; But My Heart Shrinks From The Contemplation Of Such A Possibility, And Whispers I Could Not Bear To See Him Die.

I Possess The Faculty Of Enjoying The Company Of Those I - Of My Friends As Well In Silence As In Conversation.

If I Hate The Sins, I Love The Sinner, And Would Do Much For His Salvation

I See That A Man Cannot Give Himself Up To Drinking Without Being Miserable One Half His Days And Mad The Other; Besides, I Like To Enjoy My Life At All Sides And Ends, Which Cannot Be Done By One That Suffers Himself To Be The Slave Of A Single Propensity.

Because The Road Is Rough And Long, Should We Despise The Skylark's Song?