Beholding The Bright Countenance Of Truth In

God Sure Esteems The Growth And Completing Of One Virtuous Person, More That The Restraint Of Ten Vicious.

And Fast By, Hanging In A Golden Chain, This Pendent World, In Bigness As A Star Of Smallest Magnitude, Close By The Moon.

Did I Request Thee, Maker, From My Clay To Mould Me Man? Did I Solicit Thee From Darkness To Promote Me?

And Join With Thee Calm Peace And Quiet, Spare Fast, That Oft With Gods Doth Diet.

Yet From Those Flames No Light, But Rather Darkness Visible.