And Swear No Where Lives A Woman

'tis The Year's Midnight, And It Is The Day's.

True Joy Is The Earnest Which We Have Of Heaven, It Is The Treasure Of The Soul, And Therefore Should Be Laid In A Safe Place, And Nothing In This World Is Safe To Place It In.

I Throw Myself Down In My Chamber, And I Call And Invite God And His Angels Thither.

As He That Fears God Fears Nothing Else, So He That Sees God Sees Everything Else.

Who Ever Comes To Shroud Me, Do Not Harm Nor Question Much That Subtle Wreath Of Hair, Which Crowns My Arm; The Mystery, The Sign You Must Not Touch, For 'tis My Outward Soul, Viceroy To That, Which Then To Heaven Being Gone, Will Leave This To Control, And Keep These Limbs, Her Provinces, From Dissolution.