The room was bathed in moonlight.

Still we wait for thine Appearing, / Life and Joy thy Beams impart, / Chaſing all our Fears, and chearing / Ev'ry poor benighted Heart: …

[…] not color as well as at others, even when fresh covering-glass specimens are made and exactly the same tinctions used.

Some are without efficient, as God; others without matter, as Angels […].