“This horror will grow mild, this darkness light.”

“Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible.”

“When I consider how my light is spentEre half my days in this dark world and wide,And that one talent which is death to hideLodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bentTo serve therewith my Maker, and presentMy true account, lest he returning chide,"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"I fondly ask. But Patience, to preventThat murmur, soon replies: "God doth not needEither man's work or his own gifts: who bestBear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His stateIs kingly; thousands at his bidding speedAnd post o'er land and ocean without rest:They also serve who only stand and wait.”

“A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames No light; but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe”

“Farewell happy fields,Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.”

“He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the center, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself his own dungeon.”

“O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,Irrecoverably dark, total eclipseWithout all hope of day!”