The Only Fit Reply To A Fit

In The Midway Of This Our Mortal Life, I Found Me In A Gloomy Wood, Astray, Gone From The Path Direct.

Before Me Things Created Were None, Save Things Eternal, And Eternal I Endure. All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here.

Your Fame Is As The Grass, Whose Hue Comes And Goes, And His Might Withers It By Whose Power It Sprang From The Lap Of The Earth.

He Who Awaits The Call, But Sees The Need, Already Sets His Spirit To Refuse It.

Give Unto Us This Day The Daily Manna Without Which, In This Desert Where We Dwell, He Must Go Backward Who Would Most Advance.