There Is No Flesh In Man's Obdurate

How Shall I Speak Thee, Or Thy Power Address Thou God Of Our Idolatry, The Press. . . . . Like Eden's Dead Probationary Tree, Knowledge Of Good And Evil Is From Thee.

Built God A Church And Laughed His Word To Scorn.

Truth Is The Golden Girdle Of The Globe.

'tis Liberty Alone That Gives The Flower Of Fleeting Life Its Lustre And Perfume; And We Are Weeds Without It.

But Animated Nature Sweeter Still, To Soothe And Satisfy The Human Ear.