In The Lost Battle, Borne Down By

He Is The Best Sailor Who Can Steer Within Fewest Points Of The Wind, And Exact A Motive Power Out Of The Greatest Obstacles.

For He That Does Good, Having The Unlimited Power To Do Evil, Deserves Praise Not Only For The Good Which He Performs, But For The Evil Which He Forbears.

Loud O'er My Head Though Awful Thunders Roll, And Vivid Lightnings Flash From Pole To Pole, Yet 'tis Thy Voice, My God, That Bids Them Fly, Thy Arm Directs Those Lightnings Through The Sky. Then Let The Good Thy Mighty Name Revere, And Hardened Sinners Thy Just Vengeance Fear.

Her Blue Eyes Sought The West Afar, For Lovers Love The Western Star.

For Monarchs Seldom Sigh In Vain.