When round "Mansoul" Immanuel plants his army,
To retake the famous town,
On "eye-gate" hill he plants this mighty engine,
Till surrendered to his crown.
If chance a pilgrim's shield of faith is drooping,
And his heart with fear oppressed,
Then comes the ink-winged angel, trumpet sounding,
And his soul anew is blessed.
TRUTH
"And what is truth?" asked Pilate, sober.