Wickedness Is Its Own Punishment.

A Lamb Appears A Lion, And We Fear Each Bush We See's A Bear.

Let The Foundation Of Thy Affection Be Virtue, Then Make The Building As Rich As Glorious As Thou Canst; If The Foundation Be Beauty Or Wealth, And The Building Virtue, The Foundation Is Too Weak For The Building, And It Will Fall: Happy Is He, The Palace Of Whose Affection Is Founded Upon Virtue, Walled With Riches Glazed With Beauty, And Roofed With Honor.

For Trash And Toys, And Grief-engend'ring Joys, What Torment Seems Too Sharp For Flesh And Blood; What Bitter Pills, Compos'd Of Real Ills, Men Swallow Down To Purchase One False Good!

Mercy Turns Her Back To The Unmerciful.

Proportion Thy Charity To The Strength Of Thine Estate, Lest God Proportion Thine Estate To The Weakness Of Thy Charity. Let The Lips Of The Poor Be The Trumpet Of Thy Gift, Lest In Seeking Applause, Thou Lose Thy Reward. Nothing Is More Pleasing To God Than An Open Hand And A Closed Mouth.