In His Will, Our Peace.

The Man Who Lies Asleep Will Never Waken Fame.

From A Little Spark May Burst A Flame.

The More A Thing Is Perfect, The More It Feels Pleasure And Likewise Pain.

Pure Essence, And Pure Matter, And The Two Joined Into One Were Shot Forth Without Flaw, Like Three Bright Arrows From A Three-string Bow.

It Was The Hour Of Morning, When The Sun Mounts With Those Stars That Shone With It When God's Own Love First Set In Motion Those Fair Things