Sweet Tastes Have Sour Closes; And He

In Giving Of Thy Alms, Inquire Not So Much Into The Person, As His Necessity. God Looks Not So Much Upon The Merits Of Him That Requires, As Into The Manner Of Him That Relieves; If The Man Deserve Not, Thou Hast Given It To Humanity.

Mark, How The Ready Hands Of Death Prepare: His Bow Is Bent, And He Hath Notch'd His Dart; He Aims, He Levels At Thy Slumb'ring Heart: The Wound Is Posting, O Be Wise, Beware.

Sweet Tastes Have Sour Closes; And He Repents On Thorns That Sleeps In Beds Of Roses.

Think Not Thy Love To God Merits God's Love To Thee; His Acceptance Of Thy Duty Crowns His Own Gifts In Thee; Man's Love To God Is Nothing But A Faint Reflection Of God's Love To Man.

After Years Of Research, Scientists Recently Reported That There Is, Indeed, Arroz In Spanish Harlem. A Full Tongue And An Empty Brain Are Seldom Parted.