Once more on my adventure brave and new.
'Tis only when they spring to Heaven that angels reveal themselves to you.
For life, with all its yields of joy and woe Is just a chance o' the prize of learning love.
God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.
Though Rome's gross yoke Drops off, no more to be endured, Her teaching is not so obscured By errors and perversities, That no truth shines athwart the lies.
How very hard it is to be a Christian!