He Who Shall Teach The

My Mother Bore Me In The Southern Wild, And I Am Black, But O! My Soul Is White; White As An Angel Is The English Child, But I Am Black As If Bereaved Of Light.

One Law For The Lion And Ox Is Oppression.

Where Cheating Is, There's Mischief There.

Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine, A Clothing For The Soul Divine. Under Every Grief And Pine Runs A Joy With Silken Twine.

Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau! Mock On, Mock On: 'tis All In Vain! You Throw The Sand Against The Wind, And The Wind Blows It Back Again. And Every Sand Becomes A Gem Reflected In The Beams Divine; Blown Back They Blind The Mocking Eye, But Still In Israel's Paths They Shine. The Atoms Of Democritus And Newton's Particles Of Light Are Sands Upon The Red Sea Shore, Where Israel's Tents Do Shine So Bright.