Chapter 397 of 435 · 42 words · ~1 min read

XXX.

So oft the doing of God's will Our foolish wills undoeth! And yet what idle dream breaks ill, Which morning-light subdueth? And who would murmur and misdoubt, When God's great sunrise finds him out?

_THE SOUL'S TRAVELLING._

~Ede noerous Petasai tarsous.~

SYNESIUS.