What's amiss I'll strive to mend,And endure what can't be mended.

I have been there, and still would go; 'T is like a little heaven below.

But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.

There is a dreadful Hell, And everlasting pains; There sinners must with devils dwell In darkness, fire, and chains.

Do not expect to arrive at certainty in every subject which you pursue. There are a hundred things wherein we mortals. . . must be content with probability, where our best light and reasoning will reach no farther.

Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings

For Satan always finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.