Thou Shalt Not Stir One Foot To

Then Was I As A Tree Whose Boughs Did Bend With Fruit; But In One Night, A Storm Or Robbery, Call It What You Will, Shook Down My Mellow Hangings, Nay, My Leaves, And Left Me Bare To Weather.

For Now I Stand As One Upon A Rock Environed With A Wilderness Of Sea, Who Marks The Waxing Tide Grow Wave By Wave, Expecting Ever When Some Envious Surge Will In His Brinish Bowels Swallow Him.

Whose Heart The Accustom'd Sight Of Death Makes Hard.

Let Me Say Amen Betimes Lest The Devil Cross My Prayer, For Here He Comes In The Likeness Of A Jew.

One Pain Is Cured By Another. Catch Some New Infection In Your Eye And The Poison Of The Old One Would Die.