Death: the grand perhaps.
No, when the fight begins within himself, / A man's worth something.
Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls.