Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.

Innocence, Once Lost, Can Never Be Regained. Darkness, Once Gazed Upon, Can Never Be Lost.

Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

Lifted up so high I disdained subjection, and thought one step higher would set me highest.

Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.

Virtue that wavers is not virtue.

He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian. I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. Assuredly we bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather: that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary.