Hoist up sail while gale doth last, Tide and wind stay no man’s pleasure.

The path to Heaven is narrow, rough and full of wearisome and trying ascents, nor can it be trodden without great toil; and therefore wrong is their way, gross their error, and assured their ruin who, after the testimony of so many thousands of saints, will not learn where to settle their footing.

The saddest birds a season find to sing,The roughest storm a calm may soon allay;Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all,That men may hope to rise yet fear to fall.

God gave Himself to you: give yourself to God.

When Fortune smiles, I smile to think how quickly she will frown.

Not where I breathe, but where I love, I live.

What thought can think, another thought can mend.

Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly sights,A brief wherein all marvels summèd lie,Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store,Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more.

Hoist up sail while gale doth last, Tide and wind stay no man's pleasure.

Behold a silly tender babe,In freezing winter night,In homely manger trembling lies;Alas! a piteous sight.