A Prosperous State Makes A Secure Christian,

Art Can Do Much, But This Maxim's Most Sure/a Weak Or Wounded Brain Admits No Cure.

My Hope And Treasure Lies Above

Fire Hath Its Force Abated By Water, Not By Wind; And Anger Must Be Allayed By Cold Words, And Not By Blustering Threats.

My Love Is Such That Rivers Cannot Quench, Nor Ought But Love From Thee, Give Recompence. Thy Love Is Such I Can No Way Repay, The Heavens Reward Thee Manifold I Pray.

It Is Reported Of The Peacock That Priding Himself In His Gay Feathers He Ruffles Them Up; But Spying His Black Feet He Soon Lets Fall His Plumes. So He That Glories In His Gifts And Adornings Should Look Upon His Corruptions, And That Will Damp His High Thoughts.