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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,
And endless her encrease. 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,
And in her streets, and in her spacious courts,
Is heard falvation. Eastern Java there
Kneels with the native of the farthest West,
And Æthiopia 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
Saw never, such as Heav'n stoops down to fee.

Thus heav'n-ward all things tend. For all were


Perfect, and all must be at length restor'd.
So God has greatly purpos’d; who would else
In his dishonour'd works himself endure
Dishonour, and be wrong'd without redress.

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


Haste then, and wheel away a shatter'd world,
Ye slow-revolving seasons ! we would see,
(A fight 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 ev'n the joy that haply fome 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.
Oh for a world in principle as chaste
As this is gross and selfish ! over which
Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway,
That govern all thinks here, should'ring afide
The meek and modeft 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,
Nor cunning justify the proud man's wrong,
Leaving the poor nó remedy but tears :
Where he that fills an office, fhall etteem
Th' occafion it presents of doing good
More than the perquisite: Where law fall

Seld om, and never but as wisdom prompts


And equity ; not jealous more to guard
A worthlefs form, than to decide aright:
Where fashion shall not fanctify abuse,
Nor smooth good-breeding (supplemental grace)
With lean performance ape the work of love.

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 antient covenant, ere nature's birth,
And thou haft made it thine by purchase fince,
And overpaid its value with thy blood.
Thy faints proclaim thee king; and in their

hearts Thy title is engraven with a pen Dipt in the fountain of eternal love. Thy faints proclaim thee king; and thy delay Gives courage to their foes, who, could they fee The dawn of thy last advent, long-defir'd, Would creep into the bowels of the hills, And fly for safety to the falling rocks. The very spirit of the world is tir'd Of its own taunting question, afk'd so long, “ Where is the promise of your Lord's ap

proach ? The infidel has shot his bolts away, 'Till his exhausted quiver yielding none, He gleans the blunted shafts that have recoild, And aims them at the field 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

Who, constant only in rejecting thee,
Deny thy Godhead with a martyr's zeal,
And quit their office for their error's sake.
Blind and in love with darkness ! yet ev'n these
Worthy, compar'd with fycophants, who knee
Thy name, adoring, and then preach thee man.
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, refolv'd to follow none. Two gods divide them all, Pleasure and Gain : For these they live, they facrifice to these, And in their service wage perpetual war 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


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The features of the last degen'rate times,
Exhibit ev'ry 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.

He is the happy man, whose life ev'n 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 chuse,
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 fojourn while he muft
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, occupy'd 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.
Therefore in contemplation is his bliss,
Whose pow'r is such, that whom she lifts from


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