The soul of sweet delight, can never be defiled.
God appears, and God is Light, to those poor souls who dwell in Night; but does a Human Form display to those who dwell in realms of Day.
This life's dim windows of the soul Distorts the heavens from pole to pole And leads you to believe a lie When you see with, not through, the eye.
Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine. Under every grief and pine Runs a joy with silken twine.
More! More! is the cry of a mistaken soul.
But if at church they would give some ale. And a pleasant fire our souls to regale. We'd sing and we'd pray all the live long day, Nor ever once from the church to stray.
The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks.
Man was made for joy and woe, and when this we rightly know through the world we safely go. Joy and woe are woven fine, a clothing for the soul to bind.
Man has no Body distinct from his Soul; for that called Body is a portion of Soul discerned by the five Senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.
My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white; White as an angel is the English child, But I am black as if bereaved of light.
My Brother starv'd between two Walls,His Children's Cry my Soul appalls
The pure soul shall mount on native wings, . . . and cut a path into the heaven of glory.
Prepare your hearts for Death's cold hand! prepare Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth; Prepare your arms for glorious victory; Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God! Prepare, prepare!
Where others see but the dawn coming over the hill, I see the soul of God shouting for joy.
Every wolf's and lion's howl Raises from Hell a human soul.
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