Death Ready Stands To Interpose His Dart.

A Crown Golden In Show, Is But A Wreath Of Thorns, Bring Dangers, Troubles, Cares, And Sleepless Nights To Him Who Wears The Regal Diadem

So May'st Thou Live, Till Like Ripe Fruit Thou Drop Into Thy Mother's Lap.

Though All The Winds Of Doctrine Were Let Loose To Play Upon The Earth, So Truth Be In The Field, We Do Injuriously By Licensing And Prohibiting To Misdoubt Her Strength. Let Her And Falsehood Grapple; Who Ever Knew Truth Put To The Worse, In A Free And Open Encounter.

Sweet Is The Breath Of Morn, Her Rising Sweet, With Charm Of Earliest Birds.

God Has Set Labor And Rest, As Day And Night To Men Successive.