The way to bliss lies not on beds of down,And he that has no cross deserves no crown.

Shine Son of glory, and my sinnes are goneLike twinkling Starres before the rising Sunne.

Even such is man, whose glory lendsHis life a blaze or two, and ends.

He that loves thee, He that keepsAnd guards thee, never slumbers, never sleeps.

My soul, sit thou a patient looker-on;Judge not the play before the play is done:Her plot hath many changes; every daySpeaks a new scene; the last act crowns the play.

Thou art my life, my way, my light

Let the fear of a danger be a spur to prevent it: He that fears otherwise, gives advantage to the danger.

Anger, when it is long in coming, is the stronger when it comes, and the longer kept.

And what's a life? - a weary pilgrimage,Whose glory in one day doth fill the stageWith childhood, manhood, and decrepit age.

Let all thy joys be as the month of MayAnd all thy days be as a marriage day:Let sorrow, sickness, and a troubled mindBe stranger to thee.