Thieves At Home Must Hang; But He

I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.i Must Finish My Journey Alone,never Hear The Sweet Music Of Speech;i Start At The Sound Of My Own.

A Christian's Wit Is Offensive Light, A Beam That Aids, But Never Grieves The Sight; Vig'rous In Age As In The Flush Of Youth, 'tis Always Active On The Side Of Truth.

I Pity Them Greatly, But I Must Be Mum, For How Could We Do Without Sugar And Rum?

Pity! Religion Has So Seldom Found A Skilful Guide Into Poetic Ground! The Flowers Would Spring Where'er She Deign'd To Stray And Every Muse Attend Her In Her Way.

Those Flimsy Webs That Break As Soon As Wrought, Attain Not To The Dignity Of Thought.