Was Christ A Man Like

We, Peopling The Void Air, Make Gods To Whom To Impute The Ills We Ought To Bear; With God And Fate To Rail At, Suffering Easily.

Now, The Whole World Hears Or Shall Hear,--surely Shall Hear, At The Last, Though Men Delay, And Doubt, And Faint, And Fail,-- That Promise Faithful:--"fear Not, Little Flock! It Is Your Father's Will And Joy, To Give To You, The Kingdom"!

Style ... Is A Peculiar Recasting And Heightening, Under A Certain Condition Of Spiritual Excitement, Of What A Man Has To Say, In Such A Manner As To Add Dignity And Distinction To It.

Know, Man Hath All Which Nature Hath, But More, And In That More Lie All His Hopes Of Good.

Grey Time-worn Marbles Hold The Pure Muses. In Their Cool Gallery, By Yellow Tiber, They Still Look Fair.