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Connie 10.25); N:20; Lify cof a "L1 .'.'
L', wo build our less wide open!
l'ubork The cabinet of bat,
1 I Surpt, and come awar.

L), How the thirsty Links
Chip for the olden shown with long stretcht hunda

Lin, low the labring Earth
That boops to be
MIleana by Ther,

13o Lepas itt Thuy birth! Thor'attending World, to wait Thy rise,

Fisid tuunil to eyes;
Su torn, not knowing what to close,
Teil them to tears, and spent them too.

135 (me 10.all Viune! whil tlle

expener Lall the portionis patience ;

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62

TO) TIIE NAME ABOVE EVERY XUME.

185

Sweet Vame, in Thy each syllable
A thousand blest Arabias dwell;
A thousand hills of frankincense,
Mountains of myrrh, and beils of spires

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And ten thousand paradises,
The soul that tasts Thee takes from thenie.
Ilow many vnknown worlds there are
Of comforts, which Thou hast in keeping !
How many thousand mereyes there
In Pitty's soft lap ly a-sleeping!
llappy he who has the art

To awake them,

indd to take them Home, and live them in his heart.

190 (), that it were as it Wis wont to be! Wen Thy oil freinds of tire, all full of Ther, Fought against frowns with smiles; caue glorious

chase To persecutions; and against the face Of Death and feirvest dangers, dust with brane

195 And sober pace', march on to meet A GRAVE. on their bolil brests, about the world they bore Ther,

In to the teeth of 11'll stool vp to teach Thee;
In center of their inmost soules, they wore Thee,
Where larkes ud torments striu'il, in vain, to

Teach The

Little, alas, thought they
Who tore the fair brests of Thy freinds,

200

Their fury but maile way For Thee, and seru'd them in Thy glorious encls. What did their weapons but with wiler porrors 205 Inlarge Thy flaming-brested louers,

More freely to transpire

That impatient fire, The heart that hides Thee harlly cougra? What did their weapons but mtt wide, the disposa 2199 For Theel fair, purple doma, of one's deuiring, The ruby windowes which inricht the fant Of Thy so oft-repaid rizing: Each wound of their wax Thy new II6Iish, And reinthron'd Tee in Thy thy neat,

215 With bize of T:... (nn ber Thy day also

ir: I: a tte L'enisiekite! Of Win 21 i 1.***7 "."; 7), l. 7.34,

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;ܙܝ ܘܬܗ ܕܐ

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