Sleep Is Sweet To The Labouring Man.

It Could Be A Sign Of Pride In Your Life If A Word Of Reproof Or Admonition Is Not Able To Be Received With The Same Grace, Whether It Be Given By The Poorest Of Saints Or The Most Educated Person.

I Saw A Man Clothed With Rags . . . A Book In His Hand, And A Great Burden Upon His Back.

And, Indeed, This Is One Of The Greatest Mysteries In The World; Namely, That A Righteousness That Resides In Heaven Should Justify Me, A Sinner On Earth!

Breathes There A Man, Whose Judgment Clear Can Others Teach Their Course To Steer, Yet Run Himself Life's Mad Career Wild As The Wave?

Atten. Pray Of What Disease Did Mr. Badman Die, For Now I Perceive We Are Come Up To His Death? Wise. I Cannot So Properly Say That He Died Of One Disease, For There Were Many That Had Consented, And Laid Their Heads Together To Bring Him To His End. He Was Dropsical, He Was Consumptive, He Was Surfeited, Was Gouty, And, As Some Say, He Had A Tang Of The Pox In His Bowels. Yet The Captain Of All These Men Of Death That Came Against Him To Take Him Away, Was The Consumption, For It Was That That Brought Him Down To The Grave.