The Christian has greatly the advantage of the unbeliever, having everything to gain and nothing to lose.

Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

Talent may be in time forgiven, but genius never

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!

The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.