Mercy will sit between,

Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling,

Now was almost won

To think her part was done,

And that her reign had here its last fulfilling; She knew such harmony alone

Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.

At last surrounds their sight

A globe of circular light,

Throned in celestial sheen,

With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering,

And Heaven, as at some festival,

Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.

But wisest fate says No, This must not yet be so;

arrayed,

The helmed Cherubim

And sworded Seraphim

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings dis

played,

Harping in loud and solemn choir,

With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's newborn Heir.

Such music, as 'tis said,

Never before was made,

But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great

His constellation set,

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung,
And cast the dark foundations deep,
And bid the weltering waves their oozy
channel keep.

Ring out, ye crystal spheres,
Once bless our human ears,

If ye have power to touch our senses so;
And let your silver chime
Move in melodious time;

And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow
And with your nine-fold harmony

Make up full concert to the angelic symphony.

For if such holy song

Enwrap our fancy long,

Time will run back and fetch the age of gold; And speckled Vanity

Will sicken and soon die,

And leprous sin will melt from earthly mold, And hell itself will pass away,

And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.

Yea, Truth and Justice then

Will down return to men

Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wear

ing,

That on the bitter cross
Must redeem our loss,

So both himself and us to glorify;

Yet first, to those enchained in sleep, The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.