I Wish My Horse Had The Speed

Well, God's Above All; And There Be Souls Must Be Saved, And There Be Souls Must Not Be Saved.

Though Men Can Cover Crimes With Bold, Stern Looks, Poor Women's Faces Are Their Own Faults' Books.

Tongues I'll Hang On Every Tree That Shall Civil Sayings Show. . . .

My Pride Fell With My Fortunes.

Well Could He Ride, And Often Men Would Say, "that Horse His Mettle From His Rider Takes: Proud Of Subjection, Noble By The Sway, What Rounds, What Bounds, What Course, What Stop He Makes!" And Controversy Hence A Question Takes, Whether The Horse By Him Became His Deed, Or He His Manage By The Well-doing Steed.