The Forerunners
The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour, and behold my head. But must they have my brain? must they dispark...
This is a poetry & verse.
The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour, and behold my head. But must they have my brain? must they dispark Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred? Must dulnesse turn me to a clod? Yet have they left me, Thou art still my God. Good men ye be, to leave me my best room, Ev'n all my heart, and what is lodged there: I passe not, I, what of the rest become, So Thou art still my God, be out of fear.…
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