And the parson made it his text that week, and he said likewise, That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies, That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.

Speak to Him thou for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet - Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

His deeds yet live, the worst is yet to come. Yet let your sleep for this one night be sound: I do forgive him!

Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower - but if I could understand What you are…

Please don't lie to me, unless you're absolutely sure I'll never find out the truth.

Then the case is the same in all the other arts for the orator and his rhetoric; there is no need to know the truth of the actual matters, but one merely needs…

But that he wrought so high the specious tale, As manifested plainly 'twas a lie.