Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.

Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true,- A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew.

Glory, built on selfish principles, is shame and guilt.

O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?

Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.

Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, the mere materials with which wisdom builds, till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place, does but encumber whom it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much; wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.