Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul! Sweetener of life! and solder of society! - Robert Blair

Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:—this we know,
Duty requires we calmly wait the summons,
Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.

The cup goes round:
And who so artful as to put it by!
'T is long since Death had the majority.

The good he scorn'd
Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
Not to return; or if it did, in visits
Like those of angels, short and far between.