Go, Grieving Rimes Of Mine, To That

Suspicion Is The Cancer Of Friendship.

For Death Betimes Is Comfort, Not Dismay, And Who Can Rightly Die Needs No Delay.

Do You Suppose There Is Any Living Man So Unreasonable That If He Found Himself Stricken With A Dangerous Ailment He Would Not Anxiously Desire To Regain The Blessing Of Health?

Love Is The Crowning Grace Of Humanity, The Holiest Right Of The Soul, The Golden Link Which Binds Us To Duty And Truth, The Redeeming Principle That Chiefly Reconciles The Heart To Life, And Is Prophetic Of Eternal Good.

Whyle I Was Abowte To Chaunge Myn Olde Lyff-- What Sorowe I Suffred, Dyseese, Angre And Stryff, Cracchynge Myn Here, My Chekys All Totare, Wrythynge My Fyngres For Angwysshe And Care, Watrynge The Erthe With My Byttre Salte Teres That The Crye Of My Syghes Ascended To Goddys Eres, My Knees With Myn Handys Grasped Togedyre Soore, And Yitt I Stode The Same Man I Was Afore Tyl A Depe Profounde Remembraunce Att The Laste Hadd All My Wrecchednesse Afore Myn Eyn Caste