Holy, Holy, Holy Is The Lord God

I Thought Love Lived In The Hot Sunshine, But O, He Lives In The Moony Light! I Thought To Find Love In The Heat Of Day, But Sweet Love Is The Comforter Of Night.

The Apple Tree Never Asks The Beech How He Shall Grow, Nor The Lion, The Horse, How He Shall Take His Prey.

The Bat That Flits At Close Of Eve Has Left The Brain That Won't Believe. The Owl That Calls Upon The Night Speaks The Unbeliever's Fright.

O Autumn, Laden With Fruit, And Stained With The Blood Of The Grape, Pass Not, But Sit Beneath My Shady Roof; There Thou May'st Rest, And Tune Thy Jolly Voice To My Fresh Pipe; And All The Daughters Of The Year Shall Dance! Sing Now The Lusty Song Of Fruit And Flowers.

If Christianity Was Morality, Socrates Would Be The Saviour.