Sends Nature Forth The Daughter Of The

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

Built God A Church And Laughed His Word To Scorn.

The Innocent Seldom Find An Uncomfortable Pillow.

Remorse, The Fatal Egg That Pleasure Laid.

All Flesh Is Grass. And All Its Glory Fades Like The Fair Flower Dishevell'd In The Wind; Riches Have Wings, And Grandeur Is A Dream; The Man We Celebrate Must Find A Tomb, And We That Worship Him, Ignoble Graves.