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My lyre, with s}'TTipathy divine, Shall answer every chord of thine, Till their consenting tones give birth To harmonies unknown on earth. Then shall my thoughts, in living fire, Sent down from lieaven, to heaven aspire. My verse through lofty measures rise, A scale of glory to the skies, Resembling, on each hallow'd theme, The ladder of the Patriarch's dream. O'er which descending angels shone, On earthly missions from the throne, Returning by the steps they trod Up to the Paradise of GOD.

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