What A Seaof Melting Ice I Walk

Before We End Our Pilgrimage, 'tis Fit That We Should Leave Corruption, And Foul Sin, Behind Us, But With Wash'd Feet And Hands, The Heathens Dar' Not Enter Their Profane Temples; And For Me To Hope My Passage To Eternity Can Be Made Easy, Till I Have Shook Off The Burthen Of My Sins In Free Confession, Aided With Sorrow, And Repentance For Them, Is Against Reason.

We Have Not An Hour Of Life In Which Our Pleasures Relish Not Some Pain, Our Sours, Some Sweetness.

How Sweetly Sounds The Voice Of A Good Woman! It Is So Seldom Heard That, When It Speaks,it Ravishes All Senses.

One Grain Of Incense With Devotion Offer'd 's Beyond All Perfumes Of Sabaean Spices.

Honour Is Virtue's Allowed Ascent: Honour That Clasps All Perfect Justice In Her Arms; That Craves No More Respect Than That She Gives; That Does Nothing But What She'll Suffer.