What Is The City But The People?

Heaven Is Above All Yet; There Sits A Judge, That No King Can Corrupt.

I Have Full Cause Of Weeping, But This Heart Shall Break Into A Hundred Thousand Flaws Or Ere I'll Weep.

Few Things Loves Better Than To Abhor Himself.

Open Thy Gate Of Mercy, Gracious God, My Soul Flies Through These Wounds To Seek Out Thee.

Stay, My Lord, And Let Your Reason With Your Choler Question What 'tis You Go About: To Climb Steep Hills Requires Slow Pace At First: Anger Is Like A Full-hot Horse, Who Being Allow'd His Way, Self-mettle Tires Him. Not A Man In England Can Advise Me Like You: Be To Yourself As You Would To Your Friend.