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

Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history.

God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume; And we are weeds without it.

Strength may wield the ponderous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home; But elegance, chief grace the garden shows, And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polished mind.

Made poetry a mere mechanic art.

He that runs may read.