Apt Words Have Power To Suage The

Ask For This Great Deliverer Now, And Find Him Eyeless In Gaza At The Mill With Slaves.

Come, Pensive Nun, Devout And Pure, Sober Steadfast, And Demure, All In A Robe Of Darkest Grain, Flowing With Majestic Train.

In The Sweat Of Thy Face Thou Shalt Eat Bread, Till Thou Return Unto The Ground; For Thou Out Of The Ground Wast Taken; Know Thy Birth, For Dust Thou Art, And Shalt To Dust Return.

Luck Is The Residue Of Design.

And So Sepúlchred In Such Pomp Dost Lie, That Kings For Such A Tomb Would Wish To Die.