We Are Like The Herb Which Flourisheth

Come He Slow Or Come He Fast It Is But Death That Comes At Last

Sordid Selfishness Doth Contract And Narrow Our Benevolence, And Cause Us, Like Serpents, To Infold Ourselves Within Ourselves, And To Turn Out Our Stings To The Entire World Besides.

Like The Dew On The Mountain, Like The Foam On The River, Like The Bubble On The Fountain, Thou Art Gone, And For Ever!

It Was In The Beginning Of The Month Of November, 17--, When A Young English Gentleman, Who Had Just Left The University Of Oxford, Made Use Of The Liberty Afforded Him, To Visit Some Parts Of The North Of England; And Curiosity Extended His Tour Into The Adjacent Frontier Of The Sister Country.

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.