Redemption, eternal life, divinity, humanity, propitiation, incarnation, judgment, Satan, heaven and hell—all these beliefs have been so materialized and coarsened, that with a strange irony they present to us the spectacle of things having a profound meaning and yet carnally interpreted. Christian boldness and Christian liberty must be reconquered; it is the church which is heretical, the church whose sight is troubled and her heart timid. Whether we will or no, there is an esoteric doctrine, there is a relative revelation; each man enters into God so much as God enters into him, or as Angelus, I think, said, "the eye by which I see God is the same eye by which He sees me."
When a gifted team dedicates itself to unselfish trust and combines instinct with boldness and effort, it is ready to climb.
LOVE'S SERVILE LOT -
LOVE, mistress is of many minds,
Yet few know whom they serve ;
They reckon least how little Love
Their service doth deserve.
The will she robbeth from the wit,
The sense from reason's lore ;
She is delightful in the rind,
Corrupted in the core.
She shroudeth vice in virtue's veil,
Pretending good in ill ;
She offereth joy, affordeth grief,
A kiss where she doth kill.
A honey-shower rains from her lips,
Sweet lights shine in her face ;
She hath the blush of virgin mind,
The mind of viper's race.
She makes thee seek, yet fear to find
To find, but not enjoy :
In many frowns some gliding smiles
She yields to more annoy.
She woos thee to come near her fire,
Yet doth she draw it from thee ;
Far off she makes thy heart to fry,
And yet to freeze within thee.
She letteth fall some luring baits
For fools to gather up ;
Too sweet, too sour, to every taste
She tempereth her cup.
Soft souls she binds in tender twist,
Small flies in spinner's web ;
She sets afloat some luring streams,
But makes them soon to ebb.
Her watery eyes have burning force ;
Her floods and flames conspire :
Tears kindle sparks, sobs fuel are,
And sighs do blow her fire.
May never was the month of love,
For May is full of flowers ;
But rather April, wet by kind,
For love is full of showers.
Like tyrant, cruel wounds she gives,
Like surgeon, salve she lends ;
But salve and sore have equal force,
For death is both their ends.
With soothing words enthralled souls
She chains in servile bands ;
Her eye in silence hath a speech
Which eye best understands.
Her little sweet hath many sours,
Short hap immortal harms ;
Her loving looks are murd'ring darts,
Her song bewitching charms.
Like winter rose and summer ice,
Her joys are still untimely ;
Before her Hope, behind Remorse :
Fair first, in fine unseemly.
Moods, passions, fancy's jealous fits
Attend upon her train :
She yieldeth rest without repose,
And heaven in hellish pain.
Her house is Sloth, her door Deceit,
And slippery Hope her stairs ;
Unbashful Boldness bids her guests,
And every vice repairs.
Her diet is of such delights
As please till they be past ;
But then the poison kills the heart
That did entice the taste.
Her sleep in sin doth end in wrath,
Remorse rings her awake ;
Death calls her up, Shame drives her out,
Despairs her upshot make.
Plough not the seas, sow not the sands,
Leave off your idle pain ;
Seek other mistress for your minds,
Love's service is in vain.
For a people who are free, and who mean to remain so, a well-organized and armed militia is their best security.
Questions of natural right are triable by their conformity with the moral sense and reason of man.
Should things go wrong at any time, the people will set them to rights by the peaceable exercise of their elective rights.
It is from the Bible that man has learned cruelty, rapine and murder; for the belief of a cruel God makes a cruel man.
How inexpressible is the meanness of being a hypocrite! how horrible is it to be a mischievous and malignant hypocrite.
If people did not complement one another there would be little society.
The Constitution of the United States is not a mere lawyers' document: it is a vehicle of life, and its spirit is always the spirit of the age
God himself has no right to be a tyrant.