If Thou Be Rich, Strive To Command

Sin, When It Is Finished, Bringeth Forth Death.

Heav'n Is Not Always Got By Running.

Even As The Needle That Directs The Hour, (touched With The Loadstone) By The Secret Power Of Hidden Nature, Points Upon The Pole; Even So The Wavering Powers Of My Soul, Touch'd By The Virtue Of Thy Spirit, Flee From What Is Earth, And Point Alone To Thee.

And What's A Life? - A Weary Pilgrimage, Whose Glory In One Day Doth Fill The Stage With Childhood, Manhood, And Decrepit Age.

If Opinion Hath Lighted The Lamp Of Thy Name, Endeavor To Encourage It With Thy Own Oil, Lest It Go Out And Stink; The Chronical Disease Of Popularity Is Shame; If Thou Be Once Up, Beware; From Fame To Infamy Is A Beaten Road.