Date: 1715

"Soon as her crowding Thoughts cou'd find a Vent, / I know, she said, that you from Heav'n are sent:"

— Wesley, Samuel, The Elder (bap. 1662, d. 1735)

Date: 1715

"Can hateful Envy, that uneasie Guest / Of vulgar Souls, invade the Royal Breast, / And rob great Saul himself of Peace and Rest?"

— Wesley, Samuel, The Elder (bap. 1662, d. 1735)

Date: 1719

"He forms our generals for the field, / With all their dreadful skill; / Gives them his awful sword to wield, / And makes their hearts of steel."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1721

"My Heart do's like soft Wax relent, / And midst my Bowels flow"

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1721

"Bless God, who did not give our Soul / To their sharp Teeth a Prey."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1721

"Our Soul, as from a broken Snare / A Bird escapes, is fled."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: March 1763, 1774

"While with the motion of the pen, / Method pops in and out agen, / So, as I said, I thought it better, / To set me down and think a letter, / And without any more ado, / Seal up my mind, and send it you."

— Lloyd, Robert (bap. 1733, d. 1764)

Date: 1765

"In Christ, his work and word / I trust, why should ye say, / That like a tim'rous bird / My soul must wing her way, / And flee from those, whose deadly skill / At worst can but the body kill?"

— Smart, Christopher (1722-1771)

Date: 1765

"In Christ, his work and word / I trust, why should ye say, / That like a tim'rous bird / My soul must wing her way, / And flee from those, whose deadly skill / At worst can but the body kill?"

— Smart, Christopher (1722-1771)

Date: 1765

"O God, to what a pitch are wrought / The councils of omniscient thought."

— Smart, Christopher (1722-1771)