I Wish My Sun May Never Set,

I Prize Thy Love More Than Whole Mines Of Gold Or All The Riches That The East Doth Hold.

Iron Till It Be Thoroughly Heated Is Incapable To Be Wrought; So God Sees Good To Cast Some Men Into The Furnace Of Affliction, And Then Beats Them On His Anvil Into What Frame He Desires.

Sweet Words Are Like Honey, A Little May Refresh, But Too Much Gluts The Stomach.

Fire Hath Its Force Abated By Water, Not By Wind; And Anger Must Be Allayed By Cold Words, And Not By Blustering Threats.

The World No Longer Lets Me Love, My Hope And Treasure Are Above.