He That Hath No Cross Deserves No

Is Not This Lily Pure? What Fuller Can Procure A White So Perfect, Spotless Clear As In This Flower Doth Appear?

Thy Pride Is But The Prologue Of Thy Shame; Where Vain-glory Commands, There Folly Counsels; Where Pride Rides, There Shame Lackeys.

Be Very Vigilant Over Thy Child In The April Of His Understanding, Lest The Frost Of May Nip His Blossoms. While He Is A Tender Twig, Straighten Him; Whilst He Is A New Vessel, Season Him; Such As Thou Makest Him, Such Commonly Shall Thou Find Him. Let His First Lesson Be Obedience And His Second Shall Be What Thou Wilt.

Afflictions Clarify The Soul; And Like Hard Masters, Give More Hard Directions, Tutoring The Non-age Of Uncurbed Affections.

Poor Thieves In Halters We Behold; And Great Thieves In Their Chains Of Gold.