The French Courage Proceeds From Vanity

Yet Still There Whispers The Small Voice Within, Heard Through Gain's Silence, And O'er Glory's Din; Whatever Creed Be Taught Or Land Be Trod, Man's Conscience Is The Oracle Of God.

Man's Conscience Is The Oracle Of God.

Roll On, Deep And Dark Blue Ocean, Roll. Ten Thousand Fleets Sweep Over Thee In Vain. Man Marks The Earth With Ruin, But His Control Stops With The Shore.

Like To The Apples On The Dead Sea's Shore, All Ashes To The Taste.

My Altars Are The Mountains And The Ocean.