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the fount of life eternal Faints the parchéd soul with thirst, For the imprisoned spirit restless Seeks the flesh's gates to burst, Struggling, yearning, for the countrey Whence it has been banished erst.

While it wails it's [sic] sad condition. Pressed by grief, by sorrow crossed, Sad it looks upon the glory It's delinquency has cost; Present misery increases Memory of the blessings lost.

For of everlasting quiet Who the joyousness can tell? Where in edifices splendid All of living pearl they dwell, While with burnished gold the buildings And the couches gleam as well.

Gems alone of countless value Are the town's foundation seat. Polished gold like beaming crystal Forms the paving of the street;