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, here is God, and there is God! Believe it not, man; In such vain sort to this and that The ancient heathen ran: Though old Religion shake her head, And say in bitter grief, The day behold, at first foretold, Of atheist unbelief: Take better part, with manly heart, Thine adult spirit can; Receive it not, believe it not, Believe it not, Man!

As men at dead of night awaked With cries, "The king is here," Rush forth and greet whome'er they meet, Whoe'er shall first appear; And still repeat, to all the street, Tis he,—the king is here;" The long procession moveth on, Each nobler form they see With changeful suit they still salute, And cry, Tis he, 'tis he!"