Where Shame Is, There Is

Revenge, At First Though Sweet, Bitter Ere Long Back On Itself Recoils.

What Hath Night To Do With Sleep?

Truth Is Compared In Scripture To A Streaming Fountain; If Her Waters Flow Not In Perpetual Progression, They Sicken Into A Muddy Pool Of Conformity And Tradition.

Death From Sin No Power Can Separate.

Th' Imperial Ensign, Which Full High Advanc'd Shone Like A Meteor, Streaming To The Wind.