Happy Is The Bride That The Sun

The Person Lives Twice Who Lives The First Life Well

Let My Muse Fail Of Thy Former Helps, And Only Use Her Inadulterate Strength. What's Done By Me Hereafter Shall Smell Of The Lamp, Not Thee.

He Loves His Bonds Who, When The First Are Broke, Submits His Neck Into A Second Yoke.

Welcome, Maids Of Honor, You Doe Bring In The Spring, And Wait Upon Her.

Lord, 'tis Thy Plenty-dropping Hand That Soils My Land, And Giv'st Me For My Bushel Sowne Twice Ten For One. All This, And Better, Thou Dost Send Me, To This End, That I Should Render, For My Part, A Thankful Heart.