The Winds With Wonder Whist, Smoothly The

Tears Such As Angels Weep.

God Is Thy Law, Thou Mine.

Each Tree Laden With Fairest Fruit, That Hung To Th' Eye Tempting, Stirr'd In Me Sudden Appetite To Pluck And Eat.

Nor Aught Availed Him Now To Have Built In Heaven High Towers; Nor Did He Scrape By All His Engines, But Was Headlong Sent With His Industrious Crew To Build In Hell.

Where Glowing Embers Through The Room Teach Light To Counterfeit A Gloom.