Of Joys Departed, Not To Return, How

How Shocking Must Thy Summons Be, O Death, To Him That Is At Ease In His Possessions! Who, Counting On Long Years Of Pleasure Here, Is Quite Unfurnished For The World To Come.

Of Joys Departed, Not To Return, How Painful The Remembrance

How Blunt Are All The Arrows Of Thy Quiver In Comparison With Those Of Guilt.

Whistling Aloud To Bear His Courage Up.

Friendship! Mysterious Cement Of The Soul, Sweet'ner Of Life, And Solder Of Society.