Only Look To Jesus. He Died For

Hence, All You Vain Delights, As Short As Are The Nights Wherein You Spend Your Folly! There's Naught In This Life Sweet But Only Melancholy; O Sweetest Melancholy!

O Great Corrector Of Enormous Times, Shaker Of O'er-rank States, Thou Grand Decider Of Dusty And Old Titles, That Healest With Blood The Earth When It Is Sick, And Curest The World O' The Pleurisy Of People.

The Coward's Weapon, Poison.

Our Acts Our Angels Are, For Good Or Ill, Our Fatal Shadows That Walk By Us Still.

Great Actions Speak Great Minds.