And as ev’ry drop of Garda’s lake Is tinged with the sapphire’s blue; So all the powers of my mind partake Of joy at the thought of you.

AUTHOR of Being, Source of Light, With unfading beauties bright, Fulness, Goodness, rolling round Thy own fair orb without a bound:

I fancy that I see a little light

Methinks I see a sight most excellent

The egg’s no chick by falling from the hen; Nor man a Christian, till he’s born again.

What is the vine, more than another tree?