I Am A Little World Made Cunningly.

Christ Beats His Drum, But He Does Not Press Men; Christ Is Served With Voluntaries.

Batter My Heart, Three-personed God, For You As Yet But Knock; Breathe, Shine, And Seek To Mend; That I May Rise, And Stand, O'erthrow Me, And Bend Your Force To Break, Blow, Burn, And Make Me New.

As He That Fears God Fears Nothing Else, So He That Sees God Sees Everything Else.

There Is Nothing That God Hath Established In A Constant Course Of Nature, And Which Therefore Is Done Every Day, But Would Seem A Miracle, And Exercise Our Admiration, If It Were Done But Once.

To Rage, To Lust, To Write To, To Commend, All Is The Purlieu Of The God Of Love.