Page:Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral.djvu/23

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HILE an intrinic ardor prompts to write, The mues promie to ait my pen; 'Twas not long ince I left my native hore The land of errors, and Egyptian gloom: Father of mercy, 'twas thy gracious hand Brought me in afety from thoe dark abodes.

Students, to you 'tis giv'n to can the heights Above, to travere the ethereal pace, And mark the ytems of revolving worlds. Still more, ye ons of cience ye receive The bliful news by meengers from heav'n, How Jeus' blood for your redemption flows. See him with hands out-tretcht upon the cros; Immene compaion in his boom glows; He hears revilers, nor reents their corn: What matchles mercy in the Son of God! When the whole human race by in had fallen, He