The Glory Of Him Who

Hope Not Ever To See Heaven. I Come To Lead You To The Other Shore; Into The Eternal Darkness; Into Fire And Ice.

We Are But A Day In This World, And In That Day The Fashion Is Changed A Thousand Times: All Seek Liberty, Yet All Deprive Themselves Of It.

Thy Soul Is By Vile Fear Assailed, Which Oft So Overcasts A Man, That He Recoils From Noblest Resolution, Like A Beast At Some False Semblance In The Twilight Gloom.

A Rapid Bolt Will Rend The Clouds Apart, And Every Single White Be Seared By Wounds. I Tell You This. I Want It All To Hurt.

It Was The Hour Of Morning, When The Sun Mounts With Those Stars That Shone With It When God's Own Love First Set In Motion Those Fair Things