As some to church repair, not for the doctrine, but the music there.

Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;
And universal darkness buries all.

Nature and nature's laws lay hid in night; God said "Let Newton be" and all was light.

Music resembles poetry, in each
Are nameless graces which no methods teach,
And which a master hand alone can reach.

God's image is the married couple, a man and woman, together. Not just the man. Not just the woman. No, both of them. That's God's image.

Anybody can be Pope; the proof of this is that I have become one.