God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs
Variety's the very spice of life, that gives it all it's flavour.
Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much. Wisdom is humble that he knows not more.
Satan trembles, when he sees the weakest Saint upon his knees.
Knowledge dwells in heads replete with thoughts of other men; wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.
The darkest day if you live till tomorrow will have past away.
But it is a sort of April-weather life that we lead in this world. A little sunshine is generally the prelude to a storm.
Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.
Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies... To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
When we don't pray, we quit the fight. Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright. And Satan trembles when he sees. The weakest saint upon his knees.
Still ending, and beginning still!
Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.
Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.
The good we never miss we rarely prize
Existence is a strange bargain. Life owes us little; we owe it everything. The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.
A fool must now and then be right, by chance.
No one was ever scolded out of their sins.
God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
God made the country, and man made the town.
Assail'd by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer was, a blameless life.
Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.
Knowledge is proud that it knows so much; wisdom is humble that it knows no more.
They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.
Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.
O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?
Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.
A self-made man? Yes, and one who worships his creator.
