Honor Is The Greatest Poet.

O You Proud Christians, Wretched Souls And Small,/ Who By The Dim Lights Of Your Twisted Minds/ Believe You Prosper Even As You Fall,/ Can You Not See That We Are Worms, Each One/ Born To Become The Angelic Butterfly/ That Flies Defenseless To The Judgement Throne?

In His Will, Our Peace.

Still Desiring, We Live Without Hope.

O Conscience, Upright And Stainless, How Bitter A Sting To Thee Is A Little Fault!

Love Hath So Long Possessed Me For His Own And Made His Lordship So Familiar.