I Fled, And Cry'd Out, Death; Hell

God Shall Be All In All.

Myself, And All The Angelic Host, That Stand In The Sight Of God Enthroned, Our Happy State Hold, As You Yours, While Our Obedience Hold. On Other Surety None: Freely We Serve, Because We Freely Love.

Or If Virtue Feeble Were, Heav'n Itself Would Stoop To Her.

His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

Th' Ethereal Mould Incapable Of Stain Would Soon Expel Her Mischief, And Purge Off The Baser Fire, Victorious. Thus Repuls'd, Our Final Hope Is Flat Despair.