Only This I Know, That One Celestial

Praise From An Enemy Smells Of Craft.

The Childhood Shows The Man, As Morning Shows The Day.

There Are No Songs Comparable To The Songs Of Zion, No Orations Equal To Those Of The Prophets, And No Politics Like Those Which The Scriptures Teach.

Awake, Arise Or Be For Ever Fall’n.

But That From Us Aught Should Ascend To Heav'n So Prevalent As To Concern The Mind Of God, High-bless'd, Or To Incline His Will, Hard To Belief May Seem; Yet This Will Prayer.