He Loves To Sit And Hear Me

O Thou With Dewy Locks, Who Lookest Down Thro' The Clear Windows Of The Morning, Turn Thine Angel Eyes Upon Our Western Isle, Which In Full Choir Hails Thy Approach, O Spring! The Hills Tell Each Other, And The Listening Valleys Hear; All Our Longing Eyes Are Turned Up To Thy Bright Pavilions: Issue Forth, And Let Thy Holy Feet Visit Our Clime. Come O'er The Eastern Hills, And Let Our Winds Kiss Thy Perfumed Garments; Let Us Taste Thy Morn And Evening Breath; Scatter Thy Pearls Upon Our Love-sick Land That Mourns For Thee.

When The Voices Of Children Are Heard On The Greenand Laughing Is Heard On The Hill,my Heart Is At Rest Within My Breastand Everything Else Is Still.

The Lamb Misused Breeds Public Strife And Yet Forgives The Butcher's Knife.

God Only Acts And Is, In Existing Beings Or Men.

When I Tell The Truth, It Is Not For The Sake Of Convincing Those Who Do Not Know It, But For The Sake Of Defending Those That Do.