I am a stranger here below,
And what I am ’tis hard to know;
I am so vile, so prone to sin,
I fear that I’m not born again.
When I experience call to mind,
My understanding is so blind—
All feeling sense seems to be gone,
Which makes me think that I am wrong.
• “The Pilgrim’s Song,” William Walker’s Southern
Harmony and Musical Companion, No. 106
Love is a naked shadow
On a gnarled and naked tree.