The Psalms Foretell What I, What Any

Take Me To You, Imprison Me, For I, Except You Enthrall Me, Never Shall Be Free, Nor Ever Chaste, Except You Ravish Me.

God Employs Several Translators; Some Pieces Are Translated By Age, Some By Sickness, Some By War, Some By Justice.

Death Comes Equally To Us All, And Makes Us All Equal When It Comes.

Busy Old Fool, Unruly Sun, Why Dost Thou Thus Through Windows And Through Curtains Call On Us? Must To Thy Motions Lovers Seasons Run?

That Soul That Can Reflect Upon Itself, Consider Itself, Is More Than So.