In-Text |
But some pretious Soul whispers in mine ears (I blesse God) I am not troubled with this lethargy, my sails are so filled, that my mill goes and grinds nimbly, only I am afraid the wind blows not from the right quarter; |
But Some precious Soul whispers in mine ears (I bless God) I am not troubled with this lethargy, my sails Are so filled, that my mill Goes and grinds nimbly, only I am afraid the wind blows not from the right quarter; |
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