Page:Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse.pdf/236

  Spake thus serene as if no pain he felt, "Ye bruise the shell, the wither' d husk ye break, Ye sink the boat, but me ye cannot shake."

Oh! fear not them whose hand may pierce the heart, And cannot harm the never-dying part: But fear ye Him who rends the clay-built cell, And dooms the spirit to the pains of hell.

 

"IT makes me happy in my lone retreat, "And with my heart it gives me converse sweet; "And why should he be much inclined to roam, "Who finds a better banquet still at home?"

And those may say, who by their Saviour blest, Bear heavenly science planted in their breast, 