Dear Mother, Dear Mother, The Church Is

The Pure Soul Shall Mount On Native Wings, . . . And Cut A Path Into The Heaven Of Glory.

If The Lion Was Advised By The Fox, He Would Be Cunning.

Lives In Eternity's Sun Rise.

When My Mother Died I Was Very Young, And My Father Sold Me While Yet My Tongue Could Scarcely Cry Weep Weep Weep Weep. So Your Chimneys I Sweep, And In Soot I Sleep.

Do What You Will This Life's A Fiction, And Is Made Up Of Contradiction.