Gem Of All Joy, Jasper Of Jocundity.

Our Pleasance Here Is All Vain Glory, This False Warld Is But Transitory.

I That In Heill Wes And Gladnes Am Trublit Now With Gret Seiknes And Feblit With Infermite: Timor Mortis Conturbat Me.* * Fear Of Death Troubles Me.

Noble Men In The Quiet Of Morning Hear Indians Singing The Continent's Violent Requiem.

To God Be Humble, To Thy Friend Be Kind, And With Thy Neighbors Gladly Lend And Borrow; His Chance Tonight, It Maybe Thine Tomorrow.

All Love Is Lost But Upon God Alone.