They Who Have Put Out The People's

Beauty Is God's Handwriting-a Wayside Sacrament.

O When Meet Now Such Pairs, In Love And Mutual Honour Joined?

He Touch'd The Tender Stops Of Various Quills, With Eager Thought Warbling His Doric Lay.

Thou Canst Not Touch The Freedom Of My Mind.

Heaven Open'd Wide Her Ever During Gates, Harmonious Sound, On Golden Hinges Moving.