Holy, Holy, Holy Is The Lord God

Every Man Who Is Not An Artist Is A Traitor To His Own Nature.

Where Cheating Is, There's Mischief There.

How Sweet I Roamed From Field To Field, And Tasted All The Summer's Pride, Till I The Prince Of Love Beheld, Who In The Sunny Beams Did Glide!

Desperate Remorse Swallows The Present In A Quenchless Rage.

To Mercy Pity Peace And Love All Pray In Their Distress, And To These Virtues Of Delight Return Their Thankfulness. For Mercy Pity Peace And Love Is God Our Father Dear. And Mercy Pity Peace And Love Is Man His Child And Care. Then Every Man Of Every Clime That Prays In His Distress Prays To The Human Form Divine: Love Mercy Pity Peace. And All Must Love The Human Form In Heathen, Turk, Or Jew. Where Mercy, Love And Pity Dwell There God Is Dwelling Too.