Gleanings

My spirit is the ark, for the God of all Glory My spirit is His rented house, where He tells His story My spirit is the parchment, upon which He writes down His Son My spirit is the temple, where all His works are done Where once I used to look out, now I peer [...]

One day, through the primeval wood, A calf walked home, as good calves should; But made a trail all bent askew, A crooked trail as all calves do. Since then three hundred years have fled, And, I infer, the calf is dead. But still he left behind his trail, And thereby hangs my moral tale. [...]