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Deus et quodcunque vides, quocunque moveris.

OD of my life! and author of my days! Permit my feeble voice to lip thy praie; And trembling, take upon a mortal tongue That hallow'd name to harps of Seraphs ung. Yet here the brightet Seraphs could no more Than hide their faces, tremble, and adore. Worms, angels, men, in every different phere Are equal all, for all are nothing here. All