Faithful found among the faithless.

License they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that, must first be wise and good.

And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems.

Hell has no benefits, only torture.

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.

My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.

Reason also is choice.