Yet Then From All My Grief, O

Who Rant By Note, And Through The Gamut Rage; In Songs And Airs Express Their Martial Fire; Combat In Trills, And In A Fugue Expire.

Supposing All The Great Points Of Atheism Were Formed Into A Kind Of Creed, I Would Fain Ask Whether It Would Not Require An Infinite Greater Measure Of Faith Than Any Set Of Articles Which They So Violently Oppose.

The Soul, Considered With Its Creator, Is Like One Of Those Mathematical Lines That May Draw Nearer To Another For All Eternity Without A Possibility Of Touching It; And Can There Be A Thought So Transporting As To Consider Ourselves In These Perpetual Approaches To Him, Who Is Not Only The Standard Of Perfection, But Of Happiness?

There Is Not A More Pleasing Exercise Of The Mind Than Gratitude. It Is Accompanied With Such An Inward Satisfaction That The Duty Is Sufficiently Rewarded By The Performance

The Sense Of Honour Is Of So Fine And Delicate A Nature, That It Is Only To Be Met With In Minds Which Are Naturally Noble, Or In Such As Have Been Cultivated By Good Examples, Or A Refined Education.