The Few That Pray At All Pray

The Man That Hails You Tom Or Jack, And Proves By Thumps Upon Your Back How He Esteems Your Merit, Is Such A Friend, That One Had Need Be Very Much His Friend Indeed To Pardon Or To Bear It.

England With All Thy Faults, I Love Thee Still-- My Country! And, While Yet A Nook Is Left Where English Minds And Manners May Be Found, Shall Be Constrained To Love Thee.

And The Tear That Is Wiped With A Little Address, May Be Follow'd Perhaps By A Smile.

God Moves In Mysterious Ways His Wonders To Performs

Ever Let The Fancy Roam, Pleasure Never Is At Home.