God Is Our Fortress, In Whose Conquering

Be Bloody, Bold, And Resolute; Laugh To Scorn The Power Of Man.

Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea, But Bad Mortality O'ersways Their Power, How With This Rage Shall Beauty Hold A Plea, Whose Action Is No Stronger Than A Flower?

Murder Most Foul, As In The Best It It; But This Most Foul, Strange, And Unnatural.

Here's That Which Is Too Weak To Be A Sinner, Honest Water, Which Ne'er Left Man I' The Mire.

So May He Rest, His Faults Lie Gently On Him!