“He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color’d like his own, and having pow’r T’ enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.”

What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wife;When friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?

God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs

The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.

…So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.

Absence of proof is not proof of absence.

Variety’s the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.

When nations are to perish in their sins, ’tis in the Church the leprosy begins.

To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.

Blest be the art that can immortalize,–the art that baffles time’s tyrannic claim to quench it.

Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.

No traveler e’er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.

Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.

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,

A heretic, my dear sir, is a fellow who disagrees with you regarding something neither of you knows anything about.