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- Стр. 1192/1366
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Oppressed
with
stupor
,
I
unto
my
guide
Turned
like
a
little
child
who
always
runs
For
refuge
there
where
he
confideth
most
;
And
she
,
even
as
a
mother
who
straightway
Gives
comfort
to
her
pale
and
breathless
boy
With
voice
whose
wont
it
is
to
reassure
him
,
Said
to
me
:
"
Knowest
thou
not
thou
art
in
heaven
,
And
knowest
thou
not
that
heaven
is
holy
all
And
what
is
done
here
cometh
from
good
zeal
?
After
what
wise
the
singing
would
have
changed
thee
