I Wonder, By My Troth, What Thou

No Man Is An Island Unto Himself.

I Wonder, By My Troth, What Thou And I Did, Till We Lov'd?

As He That Fears God Fears Nothing Else, So He That Sees God Sees Everything Else.

What Gnashing Is Not A Comfort, What Gnawing Of The Worm Is Not A Tickling, What Torment Is Not A Marriage Bed To This Damnation, To Be Secluded Eternally, Eternally, Eternally From The Sight Of God?

Now God Comes To Thee, Not As In The Dawning Of The Day, Not As In The Bud Of The Spring, But As The Sun At Noon To Illustrate All Shadows, As The Sheaves In Harvest, To Fill All Penuries, All Occasions Invite His Mercies, And All Times Are His Seasons.