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! what is this enchanting calm Which thus with peace my bosom fills, Which o'er my spirit pours a balm, And through my inmost being thrills?

Is there some seraph hither sent, Diffusing sweetness from his wings, To steep my bosom in content Unknown, unfelt, from earthly things?

No! something purer far must dwell Within this raptur'd soul of mine; Tis what no mortal tongue can tell, 'Tis more than heav'nly, 'tis divine.

My God! my Jesus! it is thou Art ravishing my heart with bliss; Thy presence is within me now: Ah! could I ask a boon like this?

Yes! stooping from thy throne above, Thou wilt not dwell from man apart; Thy dearest home becomes, through love, The tabernacle of my heart.

