The World Is Deceitful; Her End Is

God's Pleasure Is At The End Of Our Prayers.

The World's A Printing-house, Our Words, Our Thoughts, Our Deeds, Are Characters Of Several Sizes. Each Soul Is A Compos'tor, Of Whose Faults The Levites Are Correctors; Heaven Revises. Death Is The Common Press, From Whence Being Driven, We're Gather'd, Sheet By Sheet, And Bound For Heaven.

If Thy Daughter Marry Well, Thou Hast Found A Son; If Not, Thou Hast Lost A Daughter.

Afflictions Clarify The Soul.

If Thy Faith Have No Doubts, Thou Has Just Cause To Doubt Thy Faith; And If Thy Doubts Have No Hope, Thou Hast Just Reason To Fear Despair; When Therefore Thy Doubts Shall Exercise Thy Faith, Keep Thy Hopes Firm To Qualify Thy Doubts; So Shall Thy Faith Be Secured From Doubts; So Shall Thy Doubts Be Preserved From Despair.