Gold--the Picklock That Never Fails.

Quiet Night, That Brings Best To The Labourer, Is The Outlaw's Day, In Which He Rises Early To Do Wrong, And When His Work Is Ended Dares Not Sleep.

Before We End Our Pilgrimage, 'tis Fit That We Should Leave Corruption, And Foul Sin, Behind Us, But With Wash'd Feet And Hands, The Heathens Dar' Not Enter Their Profane Temples; And For Me To Hope My Passage To Eternity Can Be Made Easy, Till I Have Shook Off The Burthen Of My Sins In Free Confession, Aided With Sorrow, And Repentance For Them, Is Against Reason.

The Good Needs Fear No Law, It Is His Safety And The Bad Man's Awe.

One Grain Of Incense With Devotion Offer'd 's Beyond All Perfumes Of Sabaean Spices.

Patience, The Beggar's Virtue, Shall Find No Harbor Here.