Evil Into The Mind Of God Or

To-morrow To Fresh Woods, And Pastures New.

Let Us Descend Now Therefore From This Top Of Speculation.

Beauty Is God's Handwriting-a Wayside Sacrament.

In Vain Doth Valour Bleed, While Avarice And Rapine Share The Land.

This Horror Will Grow Mild, This Darkness Light; Besides What Hope The Never-ending Flight Of Future Days May Bring, What Chance, What Change Worth Waiting--since Our Present Lot Appears For Happy Though But Ill, For Ill Not Worst, If We Procure Not To Ourselves More Woe.