Sleep Knits Up The Raveled Sleeve Of

I Durst Not Laugh For Fear Of Opening My Lips And Receiving The Bad Air.

But I Am Constant As The Northern Star, Of Whose True Fixed And Resting Quality There Is No Fellow In The Firmament.

My Grief Lies Onward, And My Joy Behind.

Let's All Cry Peace, Freedom, And Liberty!

So Now I Have Confessed That He Is Thine, And I My Self Am Mortgaged To Thy Will, My Self I'll Forfeit, So That Other Mine, Thou Wilt Restore To Be My Comfort Still.