God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up his bright designs, And works his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.

The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear; And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive.

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

In indolent vacuity of thought.

Visits are insatiable devourers of time, and fit only for those who, if they did not that, would do nothing.

Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain.