I Heard An Angel Speak

A Grave, On Which To Rest From Singing?

Utterance Is The Evidence Of Foregone Study.

Life, Struck Sharp On Death, Makes Awful Lightning.

And Yet, Because I Love Thee, I Obtain From That Same Love This Vindicating Grace, To Live On Still In Love, And Yet In Vain

My Patience Has Dreadful Chilblains From Standing So Long On A Monument.