So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man. When Duty whispers low, Thou must, The youth replies, I can.

So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
So near is God to man,
When Duty whispers low, 'Thou must,'
The youth whispers, 'I can.

Let every man shovel out his own snow and the whole city will be passable.

We do what we must, and call it by the best names we can, and would fain have the praise of having intended the result which ensues.

Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon, have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries, when they wrote these books.

If I know your sect, I anticipate your argument