The Gods At Will Can Shape A

God Loves To Help Him Who Strives To Help Himself.

I, Schooled In Misery, Know Many Purifying Rites, And I Know Where Speech Is Proper And Where Silence.

The Reward Of Pain Is Experience.

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

For By The Will Of The Gods Fate Hath Held Sway Since Ancient Days.