Now God comes to thee, not as in the dawning of the day, not as in the bud of the spring, but as the sun at noon to illustrate all shadows, as the sheaves in harvest, to fill all penuries, all occasions invite his mercies, and all times are his seasons.

Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you As yet but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

God is so omnipresent. . . . God is an angel in an angel, and a stone in a stone, and a straw in a straw.

There is hook in every benefit, that sticks in his jaws that takes that benefit, and draws him whither the benefactor will.

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

As virtuous men pass mildly away, and whisper to their souls to go, whilst some of their sad friends do say, the breath goes now, and some say no.

Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love.