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And pass into thy forest, and incline

To Carmel, and would stand in Gilead's ways,

And marvel at the Mount Abarim thine;

Thy Mount Abarim and thy Mountain Hor,

There where the two great luminaries sleep,

Which were thy teacher and thy light before.

The life of souls thine air is; yea, and thou

Hast purest myrrh for grains of dust; and deep

With honey from the comb thy rivers flow.

Sweet to my soul 'twould be to wander bare

And go unshod in places waxen waste—

Desolate since thine oracles were there;

Where thine Ark rested, hidden in thine heart,

And where, within, thy Cherubim were placed,

Which in thine innermost chambers dwelt apart.