The Generations Of Men Run On In

Every Mortal Loss Is An Immortal Gain.

Jerusalem (1804) And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time Walk Upon England's Mountains Green And Was The Holy Lamb Of God On England's Pleasant Pastures Seen And Did The Countenance Divine Shine Forth Upon Our Clouded Hills And Was Jerusalem Builded Here Among Those Dark Satanic Mills Bring Me My Bow Of Burning Gold Bring Me My Arrows Of Desire Bring Me My Spears O'clouds Unfold Bring Me My Chariot Of Fire I Will Not Cease From Mental Fight Nor Shall My Sword Sleep In My Hand 'til We Have Built Jerusalem In England's Green And Pleasant Land

The Voice Of Honest Indignation Is The Voice Of God.

Since The French Revolution Englishmen Are All Intermeasurable One By Another, Certainly A Happy State Of Agreement To Which I Forone Do Not Agree.

Tyger! Tyger! Burning Bright In The Forests Of The Night, What Immortal Hand Or Eye Could Frame Thy Fearful Symmetry?