When Nations Are To Perish In Their

Heaven Speed The Canvas, Gallantly Unfurl'd, To Furnish And Accommodate A World, To Give The Pole The Produce Of The Sun, And Knit The Unsocial Climates Into One.

The Bud May Have A Bitter Taste, But Sweet Will Be The Flower.

Built God A Church And Laughed His Word To Scorn.

There Is Mercy In Every Place. And Mercy, Encouraging Thought Gives Even Affliction A Grace And Reconciles Man To His Lot.

What Is It But A Map Of Busy Life, Its Fluctuations, And Its Vast Concerns?