Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.

I do love I know not what; Sometimes this, and sometimes that.

Here a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, for a benison to fall on our meat, and on us all. Amen.

O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine

In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.

Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.

Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.