How Can The Bird That Is Born

To My Eye Rubens' Colouring Is Most Contemptible. His Shadows Are A Filthy Brown Somewhat The Colour Of Excrement.

And Is He Honest Who Resists His Genius Or Conscience Only For The Sake Of Present Ease Or Gratification

Thinking As I Do That The Creator Of This World Is A Very Cruel Being, And Being A Worshipper Of Christ, I Cannot Help Saying: ''the Son, O How Unlike The Father!'' First God Almighty Comes With A Thump On The Head. Then Jesus Christ Comes With A Balm To Heal It.

Where Others See But The Dawn Coming Over The Hill, I See The Soul Of God Shouting For Joy.

Why Stand We Here Trembling Around, Calling On God For Help, And Not Ourselves, In Whom God Dwells?