And what's a life? - a weary pilgrimage, Whose glory in one day doth fill the stage With childhood, manhood, and decrepit age

No man is born unto himself alone; Who lives unto himself, he lives to none

My soul, sit thou a patient looker-on Judge not the play before the play is done Her plot hath many changes every day Speaks a new scene the last act crowns the play

Let the fear of danger be a spur to prevent it; he that fears not, gives advantage to the danger

The world's a book, writ by the eternal art - Of the great author printed in man's heart, Tis falsely printed, though divinely penned, And all the errata will appear at the end

Our God and soldiers we alike adore ev'n at the brink of danger, not before After deliverance, both alike requited, Our God's forgotten, and our soldiers slighted