The Soul's Rialto Hath Its Merchandise, I

For None Can Express Thee, Though All Should Approve Thee. I Love Thee So, Dear, That I Only Can Love Thee.

Utterance Is The Evidence Of Foregone Study.

The Music Soars Within The Little Lark, And The Lark Soars.

Of All The Thoughts Of God That Are Borne Inward Unto Souls Afar, Along The Psalmist's Music Deep, Now Tell Me If That Any Is. For Gift Or Grace, Surpassing This-- He Giveth His Beloved Sleep.

But Love Me For Love's Sake, That Evermore Thou May'st Love On, Through Love's Eternity.