Thou hast been called, O sleep, the friend of woe, But 'tis the happy that have called thee so.

Little, indeed, does it concern us in this our mortal stage, to inquire whence the spirit hath come; but of what infinite concern is the consideration whither it is going. Surely such consideration demands the study of a life.

The laws are with us, and God on our side.

The pulpit is a clergyman's parade; the parish is his field of active service.

That charity is bad which takes from independence its proper pride, from mendicity its salutary shame.

The grave is but the threshold of eternity. What a world were this, how unendurable its weight, If they whom death hath sundered, did not meet again!

There is a magic in that little world, home; it is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never know beyond its hallowed limits.