The Sacred Influence Of Light Appears.

The Pious And Just Honoring Of Ourselves May Be Thought The Fountainhead From Whence Every Laudable And Worthy Enterprise Issues Forth.

How Charming Is Divine Philosophy! Not Harsh And Crabbed, As Dull Fools Suppose, But Musical As Is Apollo's Lute, And A Perpetual Feast Of Nectar'd Sweets Where No Crude Surfeit Reigns

Oft, On A Plat Of Rising Ground, I Hear The Far-off Curfew Sound Over Some Wide-watered Shore, Swinging Low With Sullen Roar.

But See! Thevirgin Blessed Hath Laid Her Babe To Rest. Time Is Our Tedious Song Should Here Have Ending.

So Dear I Love Him, That With Him, All Deaths I Could Endure, Without Him, Live No Life.