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Rh  With warbl’d Hymns, and to his Godhead ing Forc’d Halleluiah’s; while he Lordly its Our envied Sovran, and his Altar breathes Ambroial Odours and Ambroial Flowers, Our ervile offerings. This mut be our task In Heav’n, this our delight; how weariom Eternity o pent in worhip paid To whom we hate. Let us not then purue 250 By force impoible, by leave obtain’d Unacceptable, though in Heav’n, our tate Of plendid vaalage, but rather eek Our own good from our elves, and from our own Live to our elves, though in this vat reces, Free, and to none accountable, preferring Hard liberty before the eaie yoke Of ervile Pomp. Our greatnes will appear Then mot conpicuous, when great things of mall, Ueful of hurtful, properous of advere 260 We can create, and in what place o e’re Thrive under evil, and work eae out of pain Through labour and endurance. This deep world Of darknes do we dread? How oft amidt Thick clouds and dark doth Heav’ns all-ruling Sire Chooe to reide, his Glory unobcur’d, And with the Majety of darknes round Covers his Throne; from whence deep thunders roar Mut’ring thir rage, and Heav’n reembles Hell? As he our Darknes, cannot we his Light 270 Imitate when we pleae? This Deart oile Wants not her hidden lutre, Gemms and Gold; Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raie Magnificence; and what can Heav’n hew more?