I Wish Thee As Much Pleasure In

And What's A Life? - A Weary Pilgrimage, Whose Glory In One Day Doth Fill The Stage With Childhood, Manhood, And Decrepit Age.

Sweet Phosphor, Bring The Daywhose Conquering Raymay Chase These Fogs;sweet Phosphor, Bring The Day!sweet Phosphor, Bring The Day!light Will Repaythe Wrongs Of Night;sweet Phosphor, Bring The Day!

The World's A Printing-house, Our Words, Our Thoughts, Our Deeds, Are Characters Of Several Sizes. Each Soul Is A Compos'tor, Of Whose Faults The Levites Are Correctors; Heaven Revises. Death Is The Common Press, From Whence Being Driven, We're Gather'd, Sheet By Sheet, And Bound For Heaven.

Hath Any Wounded Thee With Injuries? Meet Them With Patience. Hasty Words Rankle The Wound; Soft Language Dresses It.

If Thy Faith Have No Doubts, Thou Has Just Cause To Doubt Thy Faith; And If Thy Doubts Have No Hope, Thou Hast Just Reason To Fear Despair; When Therefore Thy Doubts Shall Exercise Thy Faith, Keep Thy Hopes Firm To Qualify Thy Doubts; So Shall Thy Faith Be Secured From Doubts; So Shall Thy Doubts Be Preserved From Despair.