What Is All This Juice And All

For Christ Plays In Ten Thousand Places,/ Lovely In Limbs, And Lovely In Eyes Not His/ To The Father Through The Features Of Men’s Faces.

And I Have Asked To Be Where No Storms Come, Where The Green Swell Is In The Havens Dumb, And Out Of The Swing Of The Sea.

It Kills Me To Be Time's Eunuch And Never To Beget.

Look At The Stars! Look, Look Up At The Skies! Oh Look At All The Fire-folk Sitting In The Air! The Bright Boroughs, The Circle-citadels There!

To Lift Up The Hands In Prayer Gives God Glory, But A Man With A Dungfork In His Hand, A Woman With A Slop Pail, Give Him Glory, Too. God Is So Great That All Things Give Him Glory If You Mean That They Should.