Hail Holy Light, Offspring Of

Now I See Peace To Corrupt No Less Than War To Waste.

At His Birth A Star, Unseen Before In Heaven, Proclaims Him Come.

Lords Are Lordliest In Their Wine.

But Hail Thou Goddess Sage And Holy, Hail, Divinest Melancholy, Whose Saintly Visage Is Too Bright To Hit The Sense Of Human Sight, And Therefore To Our Weaker View O'erlaid With Black, Staid Wisdom's Hue.

The Mind Is Its Own Place, And In Itself, Can Make Heaven Of Hell, And A Hell Of Heaven.