A Blustering Night, A Faire Day. [a

Rise, Heart; Thy Lord Is Risen. Sing His Praise Without Delays, Who Takes Thee By The Hand, That Thou Likewise With Him Mayst Rise: That, As His Death Calcined Thee To Dust, His Life May Make Thee Gold, And, Much More, Just.

Church Bells Beyond The Stars Heard, The Soul's Blood, The Land Of Spices; Something Understood.

Who Would Doe Ill Ne're Wants Occasion.

I Know The Ways Of Pleasure, The Sweet Strains, The Lullings And The Relishes Of It.

Who Goes To Bed, And Doth Not Pray, Maketh Two Nights To Every Day!