He That Mockes A Cripple, Ought To

The Groundsell Speakes Not Save What It Heard At The Hinges.

God Gives His Wrath By Weight, And Without Weight His Mercy.

All Keyes Hang Not On One Girdle.

It's No Sure Rule To Fish With A Cros-bow.

Rise, Heart; Thy Lord Is Risen. Sing His Praise Without Delays, Who Takes Thee By The Hand, That Thou Likewise With Him Mayst Rise: That, As His Death Calcined Thee To Dust, His Life May Make Thee Gold, And, Much More, Just.