William Cowper

How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; read more

How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept.

Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made,
To turn a penny in the way of trade.

Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made,
To turn a penny in the way of trade.

Variety's the very spice of life,
That gives it all its flavour.

Variety's the very spice of life,
That gives it all its flavour.

Still ending, and beginning still.

Still ending, and beginning still.

I venerate the man whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
read more

I venerate the man whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof
That he is honest in the sacred cause.