Be thou the first true merit to befriend, his praise is lost who stays till all commend.

Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.

Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.

A man of business may talk of philosophy; a man who has none may practice it.

So upright Quakers please both man and God.

Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!

Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.