Death Hath So Many Doors To Let

The Greatest Attribute Of Heaven Is Mercy; And 'tis The Crown Of Justice, And The Glory

Only Look To Jesus. He Died For You, Died In Your Place, Died Under The Frowns Of Heaven, That We Might Die Under Its Smile.

Weep No More, Nor Sigh, Nor Groan, Sorrow Calls No Time That 's Gone; Violets Plucked, The Sweetest Rain Makes Not Fresh Nor Grow Again.

I Find The Medicine Worse Than The Malady.

Man Is His Own Star, And The Soul That Can, Render An Honest And A Perfect Man, Commands All Light, All Influence, All Fate: Nothing To Him Falls Early Or Too Late. Our Acts Are Angels Are, For Good Or Ill: Our Fatal Shadows That Walk By Us Still.