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To Heaven's high city I direct my journey,

Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye;
Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney,
Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky;
But what is Heaven, just God, compared to thee?
Without thy presence, Heaven's no Heaven to me.

Without thy presence, earth gives no refection;

Without thy presence, sea affords no treasure; Without thy presence, air 's a rank infection; Without thy presence, Heaven itself 's no pleasure. If not possessed, if not enjoyed in thee, What's earth, or sea, or air, or Heaven to me? FRANCIS QUArles.

The Soul.

AGAIN, how can she but immortal be,

When with the motions of both will and wit,

She still aspireth to eternity,

And never rests till she attain to it?


Water in conduit-pipes can rise no higher

Than the well-head from whence it first doth spring;
Then since to Eternal God she doth aspire,
She cannot be but an eternal thing.

"All moving things to other things do move

Of the same kind, which shows their nature such ;"
So earth falls down, and fire doth mount above,
Till both their proper elements do touch.

And as the moisture which the thirsty earth
Sucks from the sea to fill her empty veins,
From out her womb at last doth take a birth,
And runs a lymph along the grassy plains.

Long doth she stay, as loth to leave the land
From whose soft side she first did issue make;
She tastes all places, turns to every hand,
Her flowery banks unwilling to forsake.

Yet Nature so her streams doth lead and carry,
As that her course doth make no final stay,
Till she herself unto the ocean marry,

Within whose watery bosom first she lay.

E'en so the soul, which in this earthly mould
The spirit of God doth secretly infuse,
Because at first she doth the earth behold,
And only this material world she views.

At first her mother Earth she holdeth dear,
And doth embrace the world and worldly things;

She flies close by the ground and hovers here,
And mounts not up with her celestial wings:

Yet under heaven she cannot light on aught

That with her heavenly nature doth agree; She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought, She cannot in this world contented be.

For who did ever yet in honor, health,

Or pleasure of the sense contentment find? Who ever ceased to wish, when he had wealth? Or, having wisdom, was not vexed in mind?

Then as a bee which among weeds doth fall,

Which seem sweet flowers with luster fresh and gay, She lights on that and this, and tasteth all,

But pleased with none, doth rise and soar away—

So, when the soul finds here no true content,

And like Noah's dove can no sure footing take, She doth return from whence she first was sent, And flies to Him that first her wings did make.


So, while the virgin soul on earth doth stay,

She, wooed and tempted in ten thousand ways, By these great powers which on the earth bear sway, The wisdom of the world, wealth, pleasure, praise;

With these sometimes she doth her time beguile,
These do by fibs her fantasy possess ;
But she distastes them all within a while,
And in the sweetest finds a tediousness:

But if upon the world's Almighty King

She once doth fix her humble loving thought, Who, by his picture drawn in everything,

And sacred messages, her love has sought:

Of him she thinks she cannot think too much;
The honey tasted still, is ever sweet;
The pleasure of her ravished thought is such,
As almost here she with her bliss doth meet.

But when in heaven she shall his essence see,
This is her sovereign good and perfect bliss:
Her longings, wishes, hopes, all finished be,

Her joys are full, her motions rest in this.

There is she crowned with garlands of content;
There doth she manna eat, and nectar drink;
That presence doth such high delights present

As never tongue could speak, nor heart could think.

The spacious Firmament on high.

'HE spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,


And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.

The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth;

Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round this dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In Reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing, as they shine,
"The hand that made us is divine!"



BRIGHT shadows of true rest! some shoots of blisse:

once a week: The next world's gladnesse prepossesst in this; A day to seek :

Eternity in time: the steps by which

We climb above all ages: lamps that light
Man through his heap of dark days: and the rich
And full redemption of the whole week's flight!


The pulleys unto headlong man: time's bower;
The narrow way;

Transplanted Paradise: God's walking houre:
The cool o' the day!

The creature's jubilee; God's parbe with dust:
Heaven here; man on those hills of myrrh and flowres ;
Angels descending; the returns of trust;

A gleam of glory after six-days-showres!

The Churche's love-feasts: time's prerogative,
And interest


Deducted from the whole: the combs and hive,
And home of rest;

The milky-way chalkt out with suns; a clue,

That guides through erring homes; and in full story,

A taste of heaven on earth: the pledge and cue
Of a full feast; and the out-courts of glory.


The Spiritual Temple.

["And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither; so that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building."-1 KINGS, vi. 7. See also chap. v. 7-18.]

AND whence, then, came these goodly stones 't was

Israel's pride to raise,

The glory of the former house, the joy of ancient days;
In purity and strength erect, in radiant splendor bright,
Sparkling with golden beams of noon, or silver smiles of

From coasts the stately cedar crowns, each noble slab was brought,

In Lebanon's deep quarries hewn, and on its mountains wrought;

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