Old Grandsires Talk Of Yesterday With Sorrow,

This Only Is Charity, To Do All, All That We Can.

Love Is A Growing, Or Full Constant Light; And His First Minute, After Noon, Is Night.

All Our Life Is But A Going Out To The Place Of Execution, To Death.

It Is Too Little To Call Man A Little World; Except God, Man Is A Diminutive To Nothing.

True Joy Is The Earnest Which We Have Of Heaven, It Is The Treasure Of The Soul, And Therefore Should Be Laid In A Safe Place, And Nothing In This World Is Safe To Place It In.