The Devil Is Not As Black As

These Have Not The Hope To Die.

It Was The Hour Of Morning, When The Sun Mounts With Those Stars That Shone With It When God's Own Love First Set In Motion Those Fair Things

They Yearn For What They Fear For.

There Sighs, Lamentations And Loud Wailings Resounded Through The Starless Air, So That At First It Made Me Weep; Strange Tongues, Horrible Language, Words Of Pain, Tones Of Anger, Voices Loud And Hoarse, And With These The Sound Of Hands, Made A Tumult Which Is Whirling Through That Air Forever Dark, And Sand Eddies In A Whirlwind.

Heaven Wheels Above You, Displaying To You Her Eternal Glories, And Still Your Eyes Are On The Ground.