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Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much.

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Labor Much Pleasure Tire Tries

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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
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A self-made man? Yes, and one who worships his creator.
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In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
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Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer keeps the Christian’s armor bright; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.
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Tea – the cups that cheer but not inebriate.
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A life of ease is a difficult pursuit.
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Would I describe a preacher, I would express him simple, grave, sincere; In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
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God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm.
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Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin; So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.
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Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
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I will pray, therefore, for blessings on my friends, even though they cease to be so, and upon my enemies, though they continue such.
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I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?
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It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.
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Absence of occupation is not rest.
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