O How Feeble Is Man's Power, That

I Throw Myself Down In My Chamber, And I Call In, And Invite God, And His Angels Thither, And When They Are There, I Neglect God And His Angels, For The Noise Of A Fly, For The Rattling Of A Coach, For The Whining Of A Door.

Lust-bred Diseases Rot Thee.

And Swear No Where Lives A Woman True, And Fair.

And To 'scape Stormy Days, I Choose An Everlasting Night.

So In A Voice, So In A Shapeless Flame, Angels Affect Us Often.