Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me, With faith, with hope, with charity, That I may run, rise, rest with Thee.
Death keeps no calendar.
Who will sell the Cow, must say the word.
Good cable, to enforce and draw, And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.
He that will take the bird, must not skare it.
'It's this accursed Science,' I cried. 'It's the very Devil. The mediaeval priests and persecutors were right, and the Moderns are all wrong. You tamper with it-and it offers you gifts. And directly you take them it knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way.'