Tears Such As Angels Weep.

Now Conscience Wakes Despair That Slumber'd,-wakes The Bitter Memory Of What He Was, What Is, And What Must Be Worse.

The Pilot Of The Galilean Lake; Two Massy Keys He Bore, Of Metals Twain (the Golden Opes, The Iron Shuts Amain).

Evil, Be Thou My Good.

And Yet On The Other Hand Unless Warinesse Be Us'd, As Good Almost Kill A Man As Kill A Good Book; Who Kills A Man Kills A Reasonable Creature, Gods Image, But Hee Who Destroyes A Good Booke, Kills Reason It Selfe, Kills The Image Of God, As It Were In The Eye.

None But Such As Are Good Men Can Give Good Things, And That Which Is Not Good, Is Not Delicious To A Well-govern'd And Wise Appetite.