Our Lives Are But Our Marches To

Grace Comes Often Clad In The Dusky Robe Of Desolation.

Faith Without Works Is Like A Bird Without Wings; Though She May Hop With Her Companions On Earth, Yet She Will Never Fly With Them To Heaven.

Let No Man Fear To Die, We Love To Sleep All, And Death Is But The Sounder Sleep.

The True Way To Gain Much Is Never To Desire To Gain Too Much.

Let Us Have A Care Not To Disclose Our Hearts To Those Who Shut Up Theirs Against Us.