And Some Are Fall'n, To Disobedience Fall'n,

Beauty Stands In The Admiration Only Of Weak Minds Led Captive.

And Pomp, And Feast, And Revelry, With Mask, And Antique Pageantry, Such Sights As Youthful Poets Dream On Summer Eves By Haunted Stream.

Avenge, O Lord, Thy Slaughtered Saints, Whose Bones Lie Scattered On The Alpine Mountains Cold; Ev'n Them Who Kept Thy Truth So Pure Of Old When All Our Fathers Worshipped Stocks And Stones Forget Not.

Let None Henceforth Seek Needless Cause To Approve The Faith They Owe; When Earnestly They Seek Such Proof, Conclude, They Then Begin To Fail.

What Is Strength Without A Double Share Of Wisdom?