God And His Priest And

Travelers Repose And Dream Among My Leaves.

O White-robed Angel, Guide My Timorous Hand To Write As On A Lofty Rock With Iron Pen The Words Of Truth, That All Who Pass May Read.

He Who Shall Teach The Child To Doubtthe Rotting Grave Shall Ne'er Get Out.

If You, Who Are Organised By Divine Providence For Spiritual Communion, Refuse, And Bury Your Talent In The Earth, Even Though You Should Want Natural Bread, Sorrow And Desperation Pursue You Through Life, And After Death Shame And Confusion Of Face To Eternity.

Men Are Admitted Into Heaven Not Because They Have Curbed Or Governed Their Passions, But Because They Have Cultivate Their Understandings.