E'EN to the height of God's eternal throne,
Where my affections, my desires, are gone.
No view of this frail, fleeting scene of things,
Pleasures that tire, or riches that have wings,
Can fill the heart, or feed th' aspiring mind,
For purer bliss, for better joys design'd.
Though once surrounded by each fair delight,
Whate'er could sooth the sense or charm the sight,
Whate'er the flattering world could best impart,
Sublimer prospects more possess'd my heart:
These, like the breaking of the morning sun,
O'er all my sweetest earthly comforts shone;
And still they shone with undiminish'd ray,
When all those earthly comforts died away:
Faith, join'd with humble Hope, bade sorrow cease,
And o'er my soul diffus'd the balm of peace.
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