And weigh the doctrine, while the spirit ’scapes;
And in the carving of our cummin-seeds,
Our metaphysical hair-splitting, fail
To note the orbit of that star of love
Which never sets.
Mrs. Sigourney.
It is well to be zealous for the truth,
God loveth not those who are lukewarm;
Fear not the reproach of the world;
Hide not thy light under a bushel;