Where Men Of Judgment Creep And Feel

All Truth Is Precious, If Not All Divine; And What Dilates The Powers Must Needs Refine.

The Bud May Have A Bitter Taste, But Sweet Will Be The Flower.

Man In Society Is Like A Flow'r, Blown In Its Native Bed. 'tis There Alone His Faculties Expanded In Full Bloom Shine Out, There Only Reach Their Proper Use.

Events Of All Sorts Creep Or Fly Exactly As God Pleases.

Blind Unbelief Is Sure To Err, And Scan His Work In Vain; God Is His Own Interpreter, And He Will Make It Plain.