Religion! What Treasure Untold Resides In That

Solitude, Seeming A Sanctuary, Proves A Grave; A Sepulchre In Which The Living Lie, Where All Good Qualities Grow Sick And Die

Far Happier Are The Dead Methinks Than They Who Look For Death And Fear It Every Day.

Be It A Weakness, It Deserves Some Praise, We Love The Play-place Of Our Early Days; The Scene Is Touching, And The Heart Is Stone, That Feels Not At That Sight, And Feels At None.

Blind Unbelief Is Sure To Err, And Scan His Work In Vain; God Is His Own Interpreter, And He Will Make It Plain.

And In That Hour, The Seeds Of Cruelty, That Since Have Swell'd To Such Gigantic And Enormous Growth, Were Sown In Human Nature's Fruitful Soil. Hence Date The Persecution And The Pain That Man Inflicts On All Inferior Kinds, Regardless Of Their Plaints.