I Made My Own House Be My

If You Follow Your Natural Bent;you Will Definitely Go To Heaven

Infinite Goodness Has Such Wide Arms.

Here We Find The Moat Of Thieves. And Just As A Lizard, With A Quick, Slick Slither, Flicks Across The Highway From Hedge To Hedge, Fleeter Than A Flash, In The Battering Dog-day Weather, A Fiery Little Monster, Livid, In A Rage, Black As Any Peppercorn, Came And Made A Dart At The Guts Of The Others, And Leaping To Engage One Of The Pair, It Pierced Him At The Part Through Which We First Draw Food; Then Loosed Its Grip And Fell Before Him, Outstretched And Apart.

As Fall The Light Autumnal Leaves, One Still The Other Following, Till The Bough Strews All Its Honors On The Earth Below.

At Grief So Deep The Tongue Must Wag In Vain; The Language Of Our Sense And Memory Lacks The Vocabulary Of Such Pain.