Hills Peep O'er Hills, And Alps On

Death, Only Death, Can Break The Lasting Chain; And Here, Ev'n Then, Shall My Cold Dust Remain

The Good Must Merit God's Peculiar Care; But Who But God Can Tell Us Who They Are?

Genuine Religion Is Not So Much A Matter Of Feeling As A Matter Of Principle.

Let Opening Roses Knotted Oaks Adorn, And Liquid Amber Drop From Every Thorn.

Curse On All Laws But Those Which Love Has Made.