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Or fertile only in its own disgrace,
Exults to see its thistly curse repeal'd.
The various seasons woven into one,
And that one season an eternal spring,

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The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence,
For there is none to covet, all are full.

The lion, and the libbard, and the bear,

Graze with the fearless flocks; all bask at noon

Together, or all gambol in the shade

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Of the same grove, and drink one common stream;

Antipathies are none. No foe to man

Lurks in the serpent now; the mother sees,

And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand

Stretch'd forth to dally with the crested worm,..

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To stroke his azure neck, or to receive

The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue.

All creatures worship man, and all mankind

One Lord, one Father. Errour has no place;

That creeping pestilence is driv'n away;

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The breath of Heav'n has chas'd it. In the heart

No passion touches a discordant string,

But all is harmony and love. Disease

Is not: the pure and uncontaminate blood

Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age.
One song employs all nations; and all cry,
"Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us!"
The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks
Shout to each other, and the mountain tops
From distant mountains catch the flying joy,
Till, nation after nation taught the strain,
Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round.
Behold the measure of the promise fill'd;
See Salem built, the labour of a God!
Bright as a sun the sacred city shines;
All kingdoms and all princes of the earth
Flock to that light; the glory of all lands
Flows into her; unbounded is her joy,

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And endless her increase. Thy rams are there
Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there;*
The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind,
And Saba's spicy groves pay tribute there.
Praise is in all her gates; upon her walls,

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And in her streets, and in her spacious courts
Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there
Kneels with the native of the farthest west;
And Ethiopia spreads abroad the hand,
And worships. Her report has travell'd forth
Into all lands. From ev'ry clime they come
To see thy beauty, and to share thy joy,
O Sion! an assembly such as Earth

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Saw never, such as Heav'n stoops down to see.

Thus heav'nward all things tend. For all were once Perfect, and all must be at length restor❜d.

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So God has greatly purpos'd; who would else
In his dishonour'd works himself endure
Dishonour, and be wrong'd without redress.
Haste, then, and wheel away a shatter'd world,
Ye slow-revolving seasons! we would see

(A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet)
A world, that does not dread and hate his laws,
And suffer for its crime; would learn how fair
The creature is, that God pronounces good;

How pleasant in itself what pleases him.

Here ev'ry drop of honey hides a sting:

Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow'rs
And c'en the joy, that haply some poor heart
Derives from Heav'n, pure as the fountain is,
Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint
From touch of human lips, at best impure.
O for a world in principle as chaste
As this is gross and selfish! over which

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*Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and progenitors of the Arabs in the prophetick Scripture here alluded to, may be reasonably considered as representatives of the Gentiles at large.

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Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway,
That govern all things here, should'ring aside
The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her
To seek a refuge from the tongue of Strife
In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men;
Where Violence shall never lift the sword,

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Nor Cunning justify the proud man's wrong,
Leaving the poor no remedy but tears:

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Where he that fills an office, shall esteem

Th' occasion it presents of doing good

More than the perquisite: where Law shall speak
Seldom, and never but as Wisdom prompts

And Equity; not jealous more to guard

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A worthless form than to decide aright:
Where Fashion shall not sanctify abuse,
Nor smooth Good-breeding (supplemental grace)
With lean performance ape the work of Love!

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Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth, Thou who alone art worthy! It was thine

By ancient covenant, ere Nature's birth;

And thou hast made it thine by purchase since;

V And o'erpaid its value with thy blood.

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Thy saints proclaim thee king; and in their hearts

Thy title is engraven with a pen

Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love.

Thy saints proclaim thee king; and thy delay

Gives courage to their foes, who, could they see

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The dawn of thy last advent, long desir'd,

Would creep into the bowels of the hills,

And flee for safety to the falling rocks.

The very spirit of the world is tir'd

Of its own taunting question, ask'd so long,

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"Where is the promise of your Lord's approach?"

The infidel has shot his bolts away,

Till his exhausted quiver yielding none,

He gleans the blunted shafts, that have recoil'd,
And aims them at the shield of Truth again.

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The veil is rent, rent too by priestly hands,
That hides divinity from mortal eyes;
And all the mysteries to faith propos'd,
'Insulted and traduc'd are cast aside,

As useless, to the moles and to the bats.

They now are deem'd the faithful, and are prais'd,

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Who, constant only in rejecting Thee,

Deny thy Godhead with a martyr's zeal,

And quit their office for their errour's sake.

Blind and in love with darkness! yet ejen these
Worthy, compar'd with sycophants, who kneel
Thy name adoring, and then preach thee man;

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So fares thy church. But how thy church may fare

The world takes little thought. Who will may preach,
And what they will. All pastors are alike
To wand'ring sheep, resolv'd to follow none.
Two gods divide them all-Pleasure and Gain;
For these they live, they sacrifice to these.
And in their service wage perpetual war

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With Conscience and with Thee. Lust in their hearts,

And mischief in their hands, they roam the earth

To prey upon each other; stubborn, fierce,

High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace.
Thy prophets speak of such; and noting down
The features of the last degen❜rate times,

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Exhibit every lineament of these.

Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns,
Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest,
Due to thy last and most effectual work,
Thy word fulfill'd, the conquest of a world!

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He is the happy man, whose life e'en now Shows somewhat of that happier life to come; Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil state, Is pleas'd with it, and, were he free to choose, Would make his fate his choice; whom peace, the fruit Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, Prepare for happiness; bespeak him one Content indeed to sojourn while he must

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Below the skies, but having there his home.
The world o'erlooks him in her busy search
Of objects more illustrious in her view;
And occupied as earnestly as she,

Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the World.
She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not;
He seeks not hers, for he has prov'd them vain.
He cannot skim the ground like summer birds.
Pursuing gilded flies; and such he deems
Her honours, her emoluments, her joys.

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Therefore in contemplation is his bliss,

Whose pow'r is such, that whom she lifts from earth She makes familiar with a Heav'n unseen,

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And shows him glories yet to be reveal'd.
Not slothful he, though seeming unemployed,
And censur'd oft as useless. Stillest streams
Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird
That flutters least is longest on the wing.

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Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has rais'd,
Or what achievements of immortal fame
He purposes, and he shall answer-None.

His warfare is within. There, unfatigu'd,
His fervent spirit labours. There he fights

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And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself,

And never-with'ring wreaths, compar'd with which,

The laurels that a Cæsar reaps are weeds.

Perhaps the self-approving, haughty world,

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That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks

Scarce deigns to notice him, or if she see,

Deems him a cipher in the works of God,
Receives advantage from his noiseless hours,
Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes
Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring
And plenteous harvest, to the pray'r he makes,
When, Isaac like, the solitary saint
Walks forth to meditate at eventide,
And think on her who thinks not for herself.
Forgive him, then, thou bustler in concerns

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