The Third Day Comes A Frost, A

Her Blood Is Settled, And Her Joints Are Stiff; Life And These Lips Have Long Been Separated: Death Lies On Her Like An Untimely Frost Upon The Sweetest Flower Of All The Field.

By The Apostle Paul, Shadows Tonight Have Struck More Terror To The Soul Of Richard Than Can The Substance Of Ten Thousand Soldiers.

To Move Wild Laughter In The Throat Of Death? It Cannot Be; It Is Impossible: Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.

Good Reasons Must Of Force Give Place To Better.

For Many Men That Stumble At The Threshold Are Well Foretold That Danger Lurks Within.