Let Us Think Less Of Men And

Sorrow Is A Stone That Crushes A Single Bearer To The Ground, While Two Are Able To Carry It With Ease.

It Is Fine To Stand Upon Some Lofty Mountain Thought, And Feel The Spirit Stretch Into A View.

Application Is The Price To Be Paid For Mental Acquisition. To Have The Harvest, We Must Sow The Seed.

I Run The Gauntlet Of A File Of Doubts, Each One Of Which Down Hurls Me To The Ground.

True Faith Nor Biddeth Nor Abideth Form, The Bended Knee, The Eye Uplift; Is All Which Men Need Render; All Which God Can Bear. What To The Faith Are Forms? A Passing Speck, A Crow Upon The Sky.