What Is There In The Vale Of

Transforms Old Print To Zigzag Manuscript, And Cheats The Eyes Of Gallery Critics By A Thousand Arts.

Heaven's Harmony Is Universal Love.

And Hast Thou Sworn On Every Slight Pretence, Till Perjuries Are Common As Bad Pence, While Thousands, Careless Of The Damning Sin, Kiss The Book's Outside, Who Ne'er Look'd Within?

Judge Not The Lord By Feeble Sense, But Trust Him For His Grace; Behind A Frowning Providence He Hides A Smiling Face. His Purposes Will Ripen Fast, Unfolding Every Hour;the Bud May Have A Bitter Taste, But Sweet Will Be The Flow’r. Blind Unbelief Is Sure To Err And Scan His Work In Vain; God Is His Own Interpreter, And He Will Make It Plain.

The Nurse Sleeps Sweetly, Hired To Watch The Sick, / Whom, Snoring, She Disturbs.