Angels and Grace; eternal hopes and fears!
Yet all these fences and their whole array,
One cunning bosom sin blows quite away.
George Herbert.
As the fond sheep that idly strays,
With wanton play, through devious ways,
Which never hits the road of home,
O’er wilds of danger learns to roam,
Till, wearied out with idle fear,
And passing there, and turning here,