lived, and that he died.
_Epitaph X_. A. POPE.

RELIGION.

God is not dumb, that he should speak no more;
If thou hast wanderings in the wilderness
And find'st not Sinai, 't is thy soul is poor.
_Bibliotres_. J.R. LOWELL.

Religion, if in heavenly truths attired,
Needs only to be seen to be admired.
_Expostulation_. W. COWPER.

In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it and approve it with a text.
_Merchant of Venice, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

I think while zealots fast and frown,
And fight for two or seven,
That there are fifty roads to town,
And rather more to Heaven.
_Chant of Brazen Head_. W.M. PRAED.

Religion stands on tiptoe in our land,
Ready to pass to the American strand.
_The Church Militant_. G. HERBERT.

A Christian is the highest type of man.
_Night Thoughts, Night IV_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Remote from man, with God he passed the days,
Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
_The Hermit_. T. PARNELL.

Religion's all. Descending from the skies
To wretched man, the goddess in her left
Holds out this world, and, in her right, the next.
_Night Thoughts, Night IV_. DR. E. YOUNG.

My God, my Father, and my Friend,
Do not forsake me at my end.
_Translation of Dies Irae_. EARL OF ROSCOMMON.

REMORSE.

What exile from himself can flee?
To zones though more and more remote
Still, still pursues, where'er I be,
The blight of life--the demon Thought.
_Childe Harold, Canto I_. LORD BYRON.

Now conscience wakes despair
That slumbered, wakes the bitter memory
Of what he was, what is, and what must be.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

Unnatural deeds
Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
_Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

MACBETH.--Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?
DOCTOR.-- Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
_Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't,
A brother's murder.
_Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

How guilt on