Flowers Of All Hue, And Without Thorn

Thy Actions To Thy Words Accord; Thy Words To Thy Large Heart Give Utterance Due; Thy Heart; Contains Of Good, Wise, Just, The Perfect Shape.

Seas Wept From Our Deep Sorrows.

The Teachers Of Our Law, And To Propose What Might Improve My Knowledge Or Their Own.

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

Fear Of Change Perplexes Monarchs.