Tears Such As Angels Weep.

Now Morn, Her Rosy Steps In Th' Eastern Clime Advancing, Sow'd The Earth With Orient Pearl, When Adam Wak'd, So Custom'd; For His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

There Is Nothing That Making Men Rich And Strong But That Which They Carry Inside Of Them. True Wealth Is Of The Heart, Not Of The Hand.

Abashed The Devil Stood And Felt How Awful Goodness Is And Saw Virtue In Her Shape How Lovely: And Pined His Loss

Then Wilt Thou Not Be Loath To Leave This Paradise, But Shalt Possess A Paradise Within Thee, Happier Far.

And The Jocund Rebecks Sound To Many A Youth, And Many A Maid, Dancing In The Checkered Shade. And Young And Old Come Forth To Play On A Sunshine Holiday.