I Sat Me Down To Watch Upon

Evil Into The Mind Of God Or Man May Come And Go, So Unapproved, And Leave No Spot Or Blame Behind.

Come, Pensive Nun, Devout And Pure, Sober Steadfast, And Demure, All In A Robe Of Darkest Grain, Flowing With Majestic Train.

Assuredly We Bring Not Innocence Not The World, We Bring Impurity Much Rather: That Which Purifies Us Is Trial, And Trial Is By What Is Contrary.

Morn, Wak'd By The Circling Hours, With Rosy Hand Unbarr'd The Gates Of Light.

Our Torments Also May In Length Of Time Become Our Elements, These Piercing Fires As Soft As Now Severe, Our Temper Changed Into Their Temper.