Heaven Is In A Grain Of Sand.

God Appears, And God Is Light, To Those Poor Souls Who Dwell In Night; But Does A Human Form Display To Those Who Dwell In Realms Of Day.

When The Stars Threw Down Their Spears, And Watered Heaven With Their Tears, Did He Smile His Work To See? Did He Who Made The Lamb Make Thee?

Where Mercy, Love, And Pity Dwell, There God Is Dwelling Too.

Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine.

All Futurity Seems Teeming With Endless Destruction Never To Be Repelled; Desperate Remorse Swallows The Present In A Quenchless Rage.