For Those Whom God To Ruin Has

Ev'n Wit's A Burthen, When It Talks Too Long.

When Misfortune Is Asleep, Let No One Wake Her.

Better To Hunt In Fields, For Health Unbought, Than Fee The Doctor For A Nauseous Draught, The Wise, For Cure, On Exercise Depend; God Never Made His Work For Man To Mend.

Death Only This Mysterious Truth Unfolds, The Mighty Soul How Small A Body Holds.

Great Souls Forgive Not Injuries Till Time Has Put Their Enemies Within Their Power, That They May Show Forgiveness Is Their Own.