Few people give themselves time to be friends.
Thou hast been called, O sleep! the friend of woe; But ’t is the happy that have called thee so.
My days among the dead are passed; Around me I behold, Where’er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old; My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.
From his brimstone bed, at break of day, A-walking the Devil is gone, To look at his little snug farm of the World, And see how his stock went on.
In fall-orbed glory, yonder moon Divine Rolls through the dark-blue depths.
The laws are with us, and God on our side.
Whoever has tasted the breath of morning knows that the most invigorating and most delightful hours of then day are commonly spent in bed; though it is the evident intention of nature that we should enjoy and profit by them.
Three things a wise man will not trust, The wind, the sunshine of an April day, And woman’s plighted faith.
Our restlessness in this world seems to indicate that we are intended for a better. We have all of us a longing after happiness; and surely the Creator will gratify all the natural desires he has implanted in us.
It is not for man to rest in absolute contentment. He is born to hopes and aspirations as the sparks fly upward, unless he has brutalized his nature and quenched the spirit of immortality which is his portion.
Oh, when a mother meets on high The babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight?
I cannot believe in an eternity of hell. I hope God will forgive me if I err; but in this matter I cannot say, “Lord help my unbelief.”
Affliction is not sent in vain, young man, from that good God, who chastens whom he loves.
Order is the sanity of the mind, the health of the body, the peace of the city, the security of the state. Like beams in a house or bones to a body, so is order to all things.
My name is Death: the last best friend am I.
Where Washington hath left His awful memory A light for after times!
Let us depart! the universal sun Confines not to one land his blessed beams; Nor is man rooted, like a tree, whose seed, the winds on some ungenial soil have cast there, where it cannot prosper.
Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray, Each in the other melting.
In the days of my youth I remembered my God! And He hath not forgotten my age.
As sure as God is good, so surely there is no such thing as necessary evil.