― 375 ―
HYMN.
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THE frith is crossed, the previous war-fare past,
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Through swampy plains, dark woods and deserts vast, |
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O'er heaths, and flowery slopes and valleys fair, |
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And gloomy mountain passes steep and bare,— |
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All disembarked the pilgrims stand |
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On the unknown and beauteous Land, |
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While Hope, who needs support no more, |
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Hath dropped her anchor by the shore, |
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A strangely-mingled band! |
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And lo, with many a lofty dome, |
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Before them stands that ample home, |
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Of many mansions, halls of rest, |
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And heavenly converse for the blest, |
― 376 ―
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Where charity and love abide; |
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While through its precincts fair and wide, |
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Research, and knowledge, and devotion, |
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Together wend with onward motion,— |
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A home to which, the entrance free, |
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Come from all tribes of each degree, |
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And from all lands, the lord and slave, |
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The firm, the timid and the brave; |
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The nursling from its mother's arms, |
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The maid in all her early charms, |
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The stately dame, the weary drudge, |
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The priest, the penitent, the pannel and the judge,— |
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The learned philosopher, historian sage, |
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And he who could not scan a lettered page, |
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Who look with wonderment, yet look with love, |
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On their Companions, and most sweetly prove |
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The new-born fellowship of blessed souls above. |
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Yea, there do enemies and rivals meet, |
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And with a strange good-will each other greet, |
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Like urchins who in feigned array |
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Of war, on school-tide holyday, |
― 377 ―
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Have sparred and jostled on the green, |
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And for a moment angry been, |
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Yea, feel such presence hath within them given, |
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A quickened zest even to the joys of Heaven. |
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For o'er them charity like unseen air, |
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Diffusing balmy sweetness every where, |
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Shall softly brood; and minds of every hue, |
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From rosy paleness to empurpled blue, |
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Like the fair rainbow's mingled harmony, |
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Give softened splendour to the mental eye. |
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For wisdom as the generous Saviour said, |
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When peevish censure reckless charges made— |
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Wisdom, unshackled, works on every side, |
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And is of all her children justified. |
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The pilgrim crowds advance. But O, that sight |
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Before them opening, beautiful and bright, |
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As lessening distance gives to view |
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Their Father's house, while they pursue |
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Their onward path,—No! nor by word or thought, |
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To man's imagination can be brought, |
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That awful glory, cease, vain muser! cease! |
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Bless God in humble hope, and be at peace. |
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