Where Thou Art Gone, Adieus And Farewells

But Slaves That Once Conceive The Glowing Thought Of Freedom, In That Hope Itself Possess All That The Contest Calls For; Spirit, Strength, The Scorn Of Danger, And United Hearts, The Surest Presage Of The Good They Seek.

Scenes Must Be Beautiful Which Daily View'd Please Daily, And Whose Novelty Survives Long Knowledge And The Scrutiny Of Years.

Perhaps Thou Gav'st Me, Though Unseen, A Kiss; Perhaps A Tear, If Souls Can Weep In Bliss.

Would I Describe A Preacher, I Would Express Him Simple, Grave, Sincere; In Doctrine Uncorrupt; In Language Plain, And Plain In Manner; Decent, Solemn, Chaste, And Natural In Gesture; Much Impress'd Himself, As Conscious Of His Awful Charge, And Anxious Mainly That The Flock He Feeds May Feel It Too; Affectionate In Look, And Tender In Address, As Well Becomes A Messenger Of Grace To Guilty Men.

O, Popular Applause! What Heart Of Man Is Proof Against Thy Sweet, Seducing Charms?