All's love, yet all's law.

Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?

Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?

What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.

We find great things are made of little things, And little things go lessening till at last Comes God behind them.

God is in his Heaven, all's right with the world.

O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.