Folly, and vice, are actors; the first cry
The prologue to the ensuing tragedy:
The former act consisteth of dumb shows;
The second he to more perfection grows;
In the third he is a man, and doth begin
To nurture vice, and act the deeds of sin;
In the fourth declines; in the fifth diseases clog
And trouble him; then death's his epilogue.

Sir Henry Wotton.

Death is a gate, that opens differently
Two folding-doors, which lead contrary ways;
Thro this the good man finds felicity,
The bad thro' that to endless ruin strays:
Herein they both the self-same rule retain,
Who enters once, must ne'er return again.

Henry Baker.

The soul on earth is an immortal guest,
Compelld to starve at an unreal feast:
A spark that upward tends by nature's force,
A stream diverted from its parent source;
A drop dissever'd from the boundless sea,
A moment parted from eternity;
A pilgrim panting for a rest to come,
An exile anxious for his native home.



THE DEW AND THE SMALL RAIN. The doctrine of the Gospel is like the dew and the small rain that distilleth upon the tender grass, wherewith it doth flourish and is kept green. Christians are like the several flowers in a garden, that have each of then the dew of heaven, which, being shaken with the wind, they let fall at each others' roots, whereby they are jointly nourished, and become nourishers of each other.


LIFE A SHADOW. Life a right shadow is; For if it long appear, Then is it spent, and death's long night draws near; Shadows are moving light, And is there ought so moving as is this? When it is most in sight, It steals away, and none knows here or where, So near our cradles to our coffins are.


PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. The snuffers in the tabernacle were directed to be made of pure gold—the moral of which seems to be, that they who profess to make others burn brighter, must " take heed that the light that is in them be not darkness.”

The Urn



The world's a hive,

From whence thou canst derive
No good, but what thy soul's vexation brings:

But case thou meet

Some petty, petty sweet,
Each drop is guarded with a thousand stings.


LIFE IN A CRAZY SHIP AND TROUBLED SEA. They who in a crazy vessel navigate a sea, wherein are shoals and currents innumerable, if they would keep their course or reach their port in safety, must carefully repair the smallest injuries, and often throw out their line and take their observations. In the voyage of life also, the Christian who would not make shipwreck of his faith, while he is habitually watchful and provident, must often make it his express business to look into his state, and to ascertain his progress.


THE NARROW CIRCLE OF LIFE. Our life is but a narrow circle, and when in its centre we are not far from its edge; and as we daily advance towards its boundaries, let us keep the transition that awaits us constantly before our eyes.

TIenry Martyn.


Our sins, like to our shadows,
When our day's in its glory, scarce appear;
Towards our evening, how great and monstrous !


Play their offensive and defensive parts,
Till they be hid o'er with a wood of darts.


Death is a port, whereby we pass to joy;
Life is a lake, that drowneth all in pain;
Death is so near, it ceaseth all annoy,
Life is so lived, that all it yields is vain.
And as by life to bondage man was brought,
Even so likewise by death was freedom wrought.

Earl of Surrey.

DOLL RELIGION LIKE DEAD WOOD. Some people's religious opinion is only a stake driven in the ground; does not grow-shoots out no greenremains just there, and just so.


Como Yote

A climbing height it is, without a head,

Depth without bottom, way without an end; A circle with no line environed,

Not comprehended, all it comprehends,
Worth infinite, yet satisfies no mind
Till it that infinite of the Godhead find.

Sir Fulke Greville.

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