We Give Each Other A

I Count All That Part Of My Life Lost Which I Spent Not In Communion With God, Or In Doing Good.

To Be No Part Of Any Body, Is To Be Nothing.

When God's Hand Is Bent To Strike, It Is A Fearful Thing To Fall Into The Hands Of The Living God ; But To Fall Out Of The Hands Of The Living God Is A Horror Beyond Our Expression, Beyond Our Imagination.

Our Faults Are Not Seen, But Past Us; Neither Felt, But Only In The Punishment.

Love Was As Subtly Caught, As A Disease; But Being Got It Is A Treasure Sweet, Which To Defend Is Harder Than To Get: And Ought Not Be Profaned On Either Part, For Though 'tis Got By Chance, 'tis Kept By Art.