Sit By My Side, And Let The

Make Use Of Time, Let Not Advantage Slip.

Presume Not That I Am The Thing I Was.

Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow Where One But Goes Abreast.

I Do Not Know What Kind Of My Obedience I Should Tender. More Than My All Is Nothing; Nor My Prayers Are Not Words Holy Hallowed, Nor My Wishes More Worth Than Empty Vanities; Yet Prayers And Wishes Are All I Can Return.

To Move Wild Laughter In The Throat Of Death? It Cannot Be; It Is Impossible: Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.