Nor From Hell One Step No More

Yet I Shall Temper So Justice With Mercy, As May Illustrate Most Them Fully Satisfy'd, And Thee Appease.

And May At Last My Weary Age Find Out The Peaceful Hermitage, The Hairy Gown And Mossy Cell, Where I May Sit And Rightly Spell Of Every Star That Heaven Doth Shew, And Every Herb That Sips The Dew, Till Old Experience To Attain To Something Like Prophetic Strain.

The Timely Dew Of Sleep Now Falling With Soft Slumb'rous Weight Inclines Our Eyelids.

All Hell Broke Loose.

Myself, And All The Angelic Host, That Stand In The Sight Of God Enthroned, Our Happy State Hold, As You Yours, While Our Obedience Hold. On Other Surety None: Freely We Serve, Because We Freely Love.