The Next Way Home's The

Alas! Fond Child, How Are Thy Thoughts Beguil'd To Hope For Honey From A Nest Of Wasps? Thou May'st As Well Go Seek For Ease In Hell, Or Sprightly Nectar From The Mouths Of Asps. The World's A Hive, From Whence Thou Canst Derive No Good, But What Thy Soul's Vexation Brings: But Case Thou Meet Some Petty-petty Sweet, Each Drop Is Guarded With A Thousand Stings.

Things Temporal Are Sweeter In The Expectation, Things Eternal Are Sweeter In The Fruition; The First Shames Thy Hope, The Second Crowns It; It Is A Vain Journey, Whose End Affords Less Pleasure Than The Way.

Toyish Airs Please Trivial Ears.

My Soul, The Seas Are Rough, And Thou A Stranger In These False Coasts; O Keep Aloof; There's Danger; Cast Forth Thy Plummet; See, A Rock Appears; Thy Ships Want Sea-room; Make It With Thy Tears.

Thy Ignorance In Unrevealed Mysteries Is The Mother Of A Saving Faith, And Thy Understanding In Revealed Truths Is The Mother Of A Sacred Knowledge; Understand Not Therefore That Thou Mayest Believe, But Believe That Thou Mayest Understand; Understanding Is The Wages Of A Lively Faith And Faith Is The Reward Of An Humble Ignorance.