There's no repentance in the grave.

There's not a plant or flower below but makes Thy glories known, And clouds arise, and tempests blow by order from Thy throne; While all that borrows life from Thee is ever in Thy care; And everywhere that we can be, Thou, God art present there.

Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small: Love so amazing, so divine Demands my soul, my life, my all.

In common discourse we denominate persons and things according to the major part of their character; he is to be called a wise man who has but few follies.

There's no repentance in the grave.

Birds in their little nests agree; And 'tis a shameful sight When children of one family Fall out, and chide, and fight.

Forbid it Lord that I should boast, save in the death of Christ, my God: All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.