These Blessed Candles Of The Night.

This World To Me Is Like A Lasting Storm,whirring Me From My Friends.

His Heart As Far From Fraud As Heaven From Earth.

Excellent Wretch! Perdition Catch My Soul But I Do Love Thee! And When I Love Thee Not, Chaos Is Come Again.

Fear No More The Heat O' Th' Sun Nor The Furious Winters' Rages; Thou Thy Worldly Task Hast Done, Home Art Gone, And Ta'en Thy Wages. Golden Lads And Girls All Must, As Chimney-sweepers, Come To Dust.

The Wound Of Peace Is Surety, Surety Secure; But Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of The Wise, The Tent That Searches To Th' Bottom Of The Worst.