Which Way I Fly Is Hell; Myself

Wickedness Is Weakness.

Seas Wept From Our Deep Sorrows.

Hail, Wedded Love, Mysterious Law; True Source Of Human Happiness.

They, Looking Back, All The Eastern Side Beheld Of Paradise, So Late Their Happy Seat, Waved Over By That Flaming Brand, The Gate With Dreadful Faces Thronged And Fiery Arms: Some Natural Tears They Dropped, But Wiped Them Soon; The World Was All Before Them, Where To Choose Their Place Of Rest, And Providence Their Guide; They, Hand In Hand, With Wandering Steps And Slow, Through Eden Took Their Solitary Way.

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