By the death of Him who died for all.

2 Hen. VI, a. 1, s. i.

Virtuous and holy, chosen from above
By inspiration of celestial grace.

1 Hen. VI, a. 5, s. iv.

Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
For JESUS CHRIST in glorious Christian field,
Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross.

Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son.

R. II, a. 2, s. i.

His champions are the prophets and apostles;
His weapons holy saws of sacred writ.

2 Hen. VI, a. 1, s. iii.

That season comes

Wherein our SAVIOUR'S birth is celebrated.

Ham., a. 1, s. i.

Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.

1 Hen. VI, a. 2, s. v.

O momentary grace of mortal men,

Which we more hunt for than the grace of GOD.

R. III, a. 3, s. iv.

Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious GOD!

My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee.

3 Hen. VI, a. 1, s. iv.

Heaven set ope thy everlasting gates,

To entertain my vows of thanks and praise!

Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,
But still remember what the LORD hath done.

2 Hen. VI, a. 2, s. i.

By CHRIST's dear blood, shed for our grievous sins.

R. III, a. 1, s. iv.

O LORD, that lends me life,

Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness.

2 Hen. VI, a. 1, s. i.

Help, angels! make assay!

Bow, stubborn knees.

Ham., a. 3, s. iii.

GOD shall be my hope,

My stay, my guide and lantern to my feet.

2 Hen. VI, a. 2, s. iii.

From the world's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

R. III, a. 1, s. iv.

Look, how the floor of heaven

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.

Wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man

regards it.

1 Hen. IV, a. 1, s.

ii.

To sue to live, I find I seek to die;

When men are unprepar'd, and look not for it.

R. III, a. 3, s. ii.

Then thus I turn me from my country's light,
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.

R. II, a. 1, s. iii.

O LORD, have mercy on us, wretched sinners.

My soul shall wait on thee in heaven.

K. J., a. 5, s. vii.

To GOD, the widow's champion and defence.

R. II, a. 1, s. ii.

Therefore, friends,

As far as to the sepulchre of CHRIST,

Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross

We are engaged to fight

In those holy fields,

Over whose acres walked those blessed feet,
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
For our advantage on the bitter cross.

There's a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow.