The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712) -Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Stanza 1.

Dear, damned, distracting town, farewell! Thy fools no more I'll tease: This year in peace, ye critics, dwell, Ye harlots, sleep at ease!

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance.

Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rusticity.

Men must be taught as if you taught them not, and things unknown proposed as things forgot.

The enormous faith of many made for one.

Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.