I Heard An Angel Singing;

Where Others See But The Dawn Coming Over The Hill, I See The Soul Of God Shouting For Joy.

Pity Would Be No More, If We Did Not Make Somebody Poor. Mercy No More Could Be, If All Were Happy As We.

Such, Such Were The Joys When We All, Girls And Boys, In Our Youth Time Were Seen On The Echoing Green.

Kill Not The Moth Nor Butterfly, For The Last Judgement Draweth Nigh.

The Prophets Isaiah And Ezekiel Dined With Me, And I Asked Them How They Dared So Roundly To Assert, That God Spoke To Them; And Whether They Did Not Think At The Time, That They Would Be Misunderstood, & So Be The Cause Of Imposition. Isaiah Answer'd, I Saw No God, Nor Heard Any, In A Finite Organical Perception; But My Senses Discover'd The Infinite In Every Thing, And As I Was Then Persuaded, & Remain Confirm'd; That The Voice Of Honest Indignation Is The Voice Of God, I Cared Not For Consequences But Wrote.