Hell Has No Benefits, Only Torture.

Was I Deceiv'd, Or Did A Sable Cloud Turn Forth Her Silver Lining On The Night?

Meanwhile The Adversary Of God And Man, Satan With Thoughts Inflamed Of Highest Design, Puts On Swift Wings, And Towards The Gates Of Hell Explores His Solitary Flight.

In Contemplation Of Created Things, By Steps We May Ascend To God.

These Are Thy Glorious Works Parent Of Good, Almighty, Thine This Universal Frame, Thus Wondrous Fair; Thy Self How Wondrous Then! Unspeakable, Who Sitst Above These Heavens To Us Invisible Or Dimly Seen In These Thy Lowest Works, Yet These Declare Thy Goodness Beyond Thought, And Power Divine: Speak Ye Who Best Can Tell, Ye Sons Of Light, Angels, For Ye Behold Him, And With Songs And Choral Symphonies, Day Without Night, Circle His Throne Rejoicing, Ye In Heav'n, On Earth Join All Ye Creatures To Extoll Him First, Him Last, Him Midst, And Without End.

New Presbyter Is But Old Priest Writ Large.