- The Washington Times - Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Lord, Thou hast given me a cell

Wherein to dwell,

A little house, whose humble roof

Is weather-proof:

Under the spars of which I lie

Both soft, and dry;

Where Thou my chamber for to ward

Hast set a guard

Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep

Me, while I sleep.

Low is my porch, as is my fate,

Both void of state;

And yet the threshold of my door

Is worn by th’ poor,

Who thither come and freely get

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