No Craving Void Left Aching In The

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought, And Still Appears More Decent As More Suitable; A Vile Conceit In Pompous Words Express'd, Is Like A Clown In Regal Purple Dress'd.

On Her White Breast A Sparkling Cross She Wore, Which Jews Might Kiss And Infidels Adore.

So Upright Quakers Please Both Man And God.

O Happiness! Our Being's End And Aim! Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content! Whate'er Thy Name: That Something Still Which Prompts The Eternal Sigh, For Which We Bear To Live, Or Dare To Die.

A God Without Dominion, Providence, And Final Causes, Is Nothing Else But Fate And Nature.