We Are Never More In Danger Than

I Pity Bashful Men, Who Feel The Pain Of Fancied Scorn And Undeserved Disdain, And Bear The Marks Upon A Blushing Face, Of Needless Shame, And Self-impos'd Disgrace.

Events Of All Sorts Creep Or Fly Exactly As God Pleases.

They Best Can Judge A Poet's Worth, Who Oft Themselves Have Known The Pangs Of A Poetic Birth By Labours Of Their Own.

God Moves In Mysterious Ways His Wonders To Performs

Where Thou Art Gone, Adieus And Farewells Are A Sound Unknown.