Classic Poem

And thy illustrious zodiac
Of twelve apostles, which engirt this all,
(From whom whosoever do not take
Their light, to dark deep pits, throw down, and fall,)
As through their prayers, thou' hast let me know
That their books are divine;
May they pray still, and be heard, that I go
The old broad way in applying; O decline
Me, when my comment would make thy word mine.