Just Knows, And Knows No

A Glory Gilds The Sacred Page, Majestic Like The Sun, It Gives A Light To Every Age, It Gives, But Borrows None.

How Soft The Music Of Those Village Bells, Falling At Interval Upon The Ear In Cadence Sweet; Now Dying All Away, Now Pealing Loud Again, And Louder Still, Clear And Sonorous, As The Gale Comes On! With Easy Force It Opens All The Cells Where Memory Slept.

God Moves In A Mysterious Way, His Wonders To Perform. He Plants His Footsteps In The Sea, And Rides Upon The Storm.

Remorse, The Fatal Egg By Pleasure Laid, In Every Bosom Where Her Nest Is Made, Hatched By The Beams Of Truth, Denies Him Rest, And Proves A Raging Scorpion In His Breast.

Built God A Church And Laughed His Word To Scorn.