Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.
Knowledge is proud that it knows so much; wisdom is humble that it knows no more.
There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.
The Spirit breathes upon the Word and brings the truth to sight.
Where thou art gone, adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
Then liberty, like day, Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Heaven Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.