Ah, Why Should All Mankind For One

Goodness Thinks No Ill Where No Ill Seems.

The Childhood Shows The Man, As Morning Shows The Day.

Truth Is Compared In Scripture To A Streaming Fountain; If Her Waters Flow Not In Perpetual Progression, They Sicken Into A Muddy Pool Of Conformity And Tradition.

No Mighty Trance, Or Breathed Spell Inspires The Pale-eyed Priest From The Prophetic Cell.

Yet I Argue Not Against Heav'n's Hand Or Will, Nor Bate A Jot Of Heart Or Hope; But Still Bear Up And Steer Right Onward.