He That Hath No Cross Deserves No

What Well-advised Ear Regards What Earth Can Say? Thy Words Are Gold, But Thy Rewards Are Painted Clay.

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.

Nothing Is More Pleasing To God Than An Open Hand, And A Closed Mouth.

Is Not This Lily Pure? What Fuller Can Procure A White So Perfect, Spotless Clear As In This Flower Doth Appear?

The Heart Is A Small Thing, But Desireth Great Matters. It Is Not Sufficient For A Kite's Dinner, Yet The Whole World Is Not Sufficient For It.