If Weakness May Excuse, What Murderer, What

In Discourse More Sweet; For Eloquence The Soul, Song Charms The Sense. Others Apart Sat On A Hill Retir'd, In Thoughts More Elevate, And Reason'd High Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, And Fate, Fix'd Fate, Free-will, Foreknowledge Absolute; And Found No End, In Wand'ring Mazes Lost.

Boast Not Of What Thou Would'st Have Done, But Do.

It Was The Winter Wild, While The Heaven-born Child, All Meanly Wrapt In The Rude Manger Lies.

Long Is The Way And Hard, That Out Of Hell Leads Up To Light.

If This Fail, The Pillar'd Firmament Is Rottenness, And Earth's Base Built On Stubble.