Related:

• Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book ii, Hymn 63...
• The tall, the wise, the reverend head Must lie as low as ours.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book ii, Hymn 63...
• Strange that a harp of thousand strings Should keep in tune so long!
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book ii, Hymn 19...
• Fly, like a youthful hart or roe, Over the hills where spices grow.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book i, Hymn 79...
• So, when a raging fever burns, We shift from side to side by tu
  And 't is a poor relief we gain To change the place, but keep the pain....
• And while the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book i, Hymn 88...
• When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I 'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book ii, Hymn 65...
• Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so
  Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 't is their nature too....
• CRITIC, n. A person who boasts himself hard to please because nobody tries to please him.
  There is a land of pure delight, Beyond the Jordan's flood, Where saints, apparelled all in white, Fling back the critic's mud....