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

Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.

The parson knows enough who knows a Duke.

Alas! if my best Friend, who laid down His life for me, were to remember all the instances in which I have neglected Him, and to plead them against me in judgment, where should I hide my guilty head in the day of recompense? I will pray, therefore, for blessings on my friends, even though they cease to be so, and upon my enemies, though they continue such.

Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.

O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!

Religion, richest favor of the skies.