He Puls With A Long Rope, That

Good Swimmers At Length Are Drowned.

Every One Fastens Where There Is Gaine.

Hee Stands Not Surely, That Never Slips.

Hee That Bewailes Himselfe Hath The Cure In His Hands.

The Sundaies Of Man's Life, Thredded Together On Time's String, Make Bracelets To Adorn The Wife Of The Eternal, Glorious King. On Sunday Heaven's Gates Stand Ope; Blessings Are Plentiful And Rife. More Plentiful Than Hope.