I Prize Thy Love More

There Is No Object That We See; No Action That We Do; No Good That We Enjoy; No Evil That We Feel, Or Fear, But We May Make Some Spiritual Advantage Of All: And He That Makes Such Improvement Is Wise, As Well As Pious.

I Am Obnoxious To Each Carping Tongue/ Who Says My Hand A Needle Better Fits./ A Poet's Pen All Scorn I Should Thus Wrong/ For Such Despite They Cast On Female Wits;/ If What I Do Prove Well, It Won't Advance,/ They'll Say It's Stolen, Or Else, It Was By Chance.

If Ever Wife Was Happy In A Man, Compare With Me, Ye Women If You Can.

My Age I Will Not Once Lament, / But Sing, My Time So Near Is Spent.

That When We Live No More, We May Live Ever