John Armstrong

Virtue and sense are one; and, trust me, still
A faithless heart betrays the head unsound.

Virtue and sense are one; and, trust me, still
A faithless heart betrays the head unsound.

How happy he whose toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd
A pleasing lassitude; he not read more

How happy he whose toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd
A pleasing lassitude; he not in vain
Invokes the gentle Deity of dreams.
His pow'rs the most voluptuously dissolve
In soft repose; on him the balmy dews
Of Sleep with double nutriment descend.

Know then, whatever cheerful and serene
Supports the mind, supports the body too:
Hence, the most vital read more

Know then, whatever cheerful and serene
Supports the mind, supports the body too:
Hence, the most vital movement mortals feel
Is hope, the balm and lifeblood of the soul.

'Tis not for mortals always to be blest.

'Tis not for mortals always to be blest.

We still take them, and each and every MSHA citation, seriously.

We still take them, and each and every MSHA citation, seriously.