A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark.

Justice does not descend from its own pinnacle.

In His will, our peace.

Give unto us this day the daily manna Without which, in this desert where we dwell, He must go backward who would most advance.

Justice divine has weighed: the doom is clear. All hope renounce, ye lost, who enter here.

Through me the way into the suffering city, Through me the way to the eternal pain, Through me the way that runs among the lost. Justice urged on my high artificer; My maker was divine authority, The highest wisdom, and the primal love. Before me nothing but eternal things were made, And I endure eternally. Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.

These have not the hope to die.