That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
How great love is, presence best trial makes, But absence tries how long this love will be.
If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
Men perish with whispering sins-nay, with silent sins, sins that never tell the conscience that they are sins, as often with crying sins; and in hell there shall meet as many men that never thought what was sin, as that spent all their thoughts in the compassing of sin.