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Oh that the privilege were mine to be, Less with the world and more alone with Thee; To spend for Thee my residue of days, And learn the secrets of Thy righteous ways,

As erst to Moses were made known Thy ways, And to Thy prophets of the ancient days, And a bright throng who, in seraphic lays, Now with the angels sound their Maker's praise.

But though my verse hath an imperfect chime, My lips would praise Thy Name in strains sublime As theirs, who in the Mansions of the Blest, Have perfect happiness, and perfect rest.