“Nay—nay, friend Williams!” the grave elder cried,
“It is that crown of glory to secure
That the True Church should for her saints provide
The shield of law ’gainst heresy impure;
Quell every schism—crush the towering pride
Of the dark Tempter, ere his reign is sure;
For many finds he who are servants meet
To sow for him the tares among the wheat.
XXVII.
“Men ever busy, searching for the new,