Just Knows, And Knows No More, Her

Ye Fearful Saints Fresh Courage Take, The Clouds You So Much Dread Are Big With Mercy And Shall Break, With Blessings On Your Head

How Sweet, How Passing Sweet, Is Solitude! But Grant Me Still A Friend In My Retreat, Whom I May Whisper, Solitude Is Sweet.

Nature, Exerting An Unwearied Power, Forms, Opens, And Gives Scent To Every Flower; Spreads The Fresh Verdure Of The Field, And Leads The Dancing Naiads Through The Dewy Meads.

No One Was Ever Scolded Out Of Their Sins.

How Readily We Wish Time Spent Revoked, That We Might Try The Ground Again Where Once--through Inexperience, As We Now Perceive--we Missed That Happiness We Might Have Found!