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.
Twice or thrice had I loved thee before I knew thy face or name, so in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, angels affect us oft, and worshiped be.
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls **** All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.
God is so omnipresent. . . . God is an angel in an angel, and a stone in a stone, and a straw in a straw.
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow your trumpets, angels.
In best understandings, sin began, Angels sinned first, then Devils, and then Man.
Men are sponges, which, to pour out, receive; Who know false play, rather than lose, deceive. For in best understandings sin began, Angels sinn'd first, then devils, and then man. Only perchance beasts sin not ; wretched we Are beasts in all but white integrity.
I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call and invite God and his angels thither.
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