Mercy Turns Her Back To The Unmerciful.

My Soul, The Seas Are Rough, And Thou A Stranger In These False Coasts; O Keep Aloof; There's Danger; Cast Forth Thy Plummet; See, A Rock Appears; Thy Ships Want Sea-room; Make It With Thy Tears.

Prize Not Thyself By What Thou Hast, But By What Thou Art; He That Values A Jewel By Her Golden Frame, Or A Book By Her Silver Clasps, Or A Man By His Vast Estate, Errs; If Thou Art Not Worth More Than The World Can Make Thee, Thy Redeemer Had A Bad Pennyworth, Or Thou An Uncurious Redeemer.

The Worldly Wisdom Of The Foolish Man Is Like A Sieve, That Does Alone Retain The Grosser Substance Of The Worthless Bran: But Thou, My Soul, Let Thy Brave Thoughts Disdain So Coarse A Purchase: O Be Thou A Fan To Purge The Chaff, And Keep The Winnow'd Grain: Make Clean Thy Thoughts, And Dress Thy Mixt Desires: Thou Art Heav'n's Tasker, And Thy God Requires The Purest Of Thy Flow'r, As Well As Of Thy Fires.

Before Thy Undertaking Of Any Design, Weigh The Glory Of Thy Action With The Danger Of The Attempt; If The Glory Outweigh The Danger, It Is Cowardice To Neglect It; If The Danger Exceed The Glory, It Is Rashness To Attempt It; If The Balances Stand Poised, Let Thy Own Genius Cast Them.

Borrow Neither Money Nor Time From Your Neighbor; Both Are Of Equal Value.