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320 BOOK OF POETRY.

Oh, for a wing to bear me far
Beyond the golden morning star!
Fain would trace th' immortal way
That leads to courts of endless day,
Where the Creator stands confess'd,
In his own fairest glories dress'd.
Some shining spirit help me rise,
Come, waft a stranger through the skies;
Bless'd Jesus, meet

me on the road,
First offspring of th' Eternal God!
Thy hand shall lead a younger son,
Clothe me with vestures yet unknown,
And place me near my Father's throne.

WATTS.

THE END

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