If You Follow Your Natural

The Glory Of Him Who Moves Everything Penetrates Through The Universe, And Is Resplendent In One Part More And In Another Less.

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

O Human Race, Born To Fly Upward, Wherefore At A Little Wind Dost Thou So Fall?

There Is A Gentle Thought That Often Springs To Life In Me, Because It Speaks Of You.

The Human Race Finds Itself In A Better Situation When It Has The Higher Level Of Freedom.