Faith without works is like a bird without wings; though she may hop with her companions on earth, yet she will never fly with them to heaven; but when both are joined together, then doth the soul mount up to her eternal rest.
Love is like youth, he thirsts, He scorns to be his mothers page; But when the proceeding times assuage The former heate, he will complaine, And wish those pleasant houres againe.
Like the falling star, Or as the flights of eagles are, Or like the fresh springs gaudy hue, Or silver drops of morning dew, Or like a wind that chafes the flood, Or bubbles which in water stood: Even such is man, whose borrowed light Is straight calld in and paid to-night.