I Pray To God That I Shall

O Fortune, How Thy Restless, Wavering State Has Fraught With Cares My Troubled Wit!

Answer On Being Asked Her Opinion Of Christ's Presence In The Sacrament. 'twas God The Word That Spake It, He Took The Bread And Brake It; And What The Word Did Make It That I Believe, And Take It.

Mr. Doctor, That Loose Gown Becomes You So Well I Wonder Your Notions Should Be So Narrow.

If Our Web Be Framed With Rotten Handles, When Our Loom Is Well Nigh Done, Our Work Is New To Begin. God Send The Weaver True Prentices Again, And Let Them Be Denizens.

All My Possessions For A Moment Of Time.