Ease Would Recant Vows Made In Pain,

Hail Holy Light, Offspring Of Heav'n Firstborn!

Sweet Is The Breath Of Morn, Her Rising Sweet, With Charm Of Earliest Birds.

Swinish Gluttony Never Looks To Heaven Amidst Its Gorgeous Feast; But With Besotted, Base Ingratitude, Cravens And Blasphemes His Feeder.

He That Hath Light Within Their Own Breast, May Sit In The Centre And Enjoy Bright Day.

When The New Light Which We Beg For Shines In Upon Us, There Be [those] Who Envy And Oppose, If It Come Not First In At Their Casements.