Tis Hard To Find God, But To

Here A Little Child I Stand, Heaving Up My Either Hand; Cold As Paddocks Though They Be, Here I Lift Them Up To Thee, For A Benison To Fall On Our Meat, And On Us All. Amen.

Give House-room To The Best; 'tis Never Known Verture And Pleasure Both To Dwell In One.

Let's Live With That Small Pittance Which We Have; Who Covets More Is Evermore A Slave.

Fight Thou With Shafts Of Silver, And O'ercome When No Force Else Can Get The Masterdom

Bid Me To Live, And I Will Livethy Protestant To Be,or Bid Me Love, And I Will Givea Loving Heart To Thee.