God's Pleasure Is At The End Of

Before Thou Reprehend Another, Take Heed Thou Art Not Culpable In What Thou Goest About To Reprehend. He That Cleanses A Blot With Blotted Fingers Makes A Greater Blur.

Of All The Difficulties In A State, The Temper Of A True Government Most Felicifies And Perpetuates It; Too Sudden Alterations Distemper It. Had Nero Tuned His Kingdom As He Did His Harp, His Harmony Had Been More Honorable, And His Reign More Prosperous.

Let Grace Conduct Thee To The Paths Of Peace.

He That Begins To Live, Begins To Die.

Yet, Sluggard, Wake, And Gull Thy Soul No More With Earth's False Pleasures, And The World's Delight, Whose Fruit Is Fair And Pleasing To The Sight, But Sour In Taste, False As The Putrid Core: Thy Flaring Glass Is Gems At Her Half Light; She Makes Thee Seeming Rich, But Truly Poor: She Boasts A Kernel, And Bestows A Shell; Performs An Inch Of Her Fair-promis'd Ell: Her Words Protest A Heav'n; Her Works Produce A Hell.