No Man Can Expect To Find A

How Many Would Die Did Not Hope Sustain Them.

A Combed Writing Will Cost Both Sweat And The Rubbing Of The Brain. And Combed I Wish It, Not Frizzled Or Curled.

Of All Trees, I Observe God Hath Chosen The Vine, A Low Plant That Creeps Upon The Helpful Wall; Of All Beasts, The Soft And Patient Lamb; Of All Fowls, The Mild And Guileless Dove. Christ Is The Rose Of The Field, And The Lily Of The Valley. When God Appeared To Moses, It Was Not In The Lofty Cedar Nor The Sturdy Oak Nor The Spreading Palm; But In A Bush, A Humble, Slender, Abject Shrub; As If He Would, By These Elections, Check The Conceited Arrogance Of Man.

Pleasures Can Undo A Man At Any Time, If Yielded To.

Arrogance Is A Weed Which Grows Upon A Dunghill; It Is From The Rankness Of The Soil That She Has Her Height And Spreadings: Witness, Clowns, Fools, And Fellows, Who From Nothing, Are Lifted Up Some Few Steps On Fortune's Ladder: Where, Seeing The Glorious Representment Of Honour Above Them, They Are So Eager To Embrace It, That They Strive To Leap Thither At Once, And By Over-reaching Themselves In The Way, They Fail Of The End, And Fall.