At Grief So Deep The

There Sighs, Lamentations And Loud Wailings Resounded Through The Starless Air, So That At First It Made Me Weep; Strange Tongues, Horrible Language, Words Of Pain, Tones Of Anger, Voices Loud And Hoarse, And With These The Sound Of Hands, Made A Tumult Which Is Whirling Through That Air Forever Dark, And Sand Eddies In A Whirlwind.

These Have Not The Hope To Die.

They Find Seven Cornices On Which Penitent And Redeemed Sinners Are Cleansed By The Grace Of God. On The First Cornice, That Of Pride, The Proud Are Learning Humility: Our Father, Dwelling In The Heavens, Nowise As Circumscribed, But As The Things Above, Thy First Effects, Are Dearer In Thine Eyes, Hallowed Thy Name Be And The Power Thereof, By Every Creature, As Right Meet It Is We Praise The Tender Effluence Of Thy Love. Let Come To Us, Let Come Thy Kingdom's Peace.

Imagination, That Dost So Abstract Us That We Are Not Aware, Not Even When A Thousand Trumpets Sound About Our Ears!

All Of Nature Is God's Art.