CONCLUSION. 



" Sweet is the harp of prophecy ; too sweet, 

 Not to be wrong'd by a mere mortal touch : 

 Nor can the wonders it records be sung 

 To meaner music, and not suffer loss. 



" O! scenes surpassing fable, and yet true. 

 Scenes of accomplish'd bliss ! which who can see, 

 Though but in distant prospect, and not feel 

 His soul refresh' d with foretaste of the joy ? 

 Rivers of gladness water all the earth, 

 And clothe all climes with beauty. No foe to man 



Lurks in the serpent now 



All creatures worship man ; and all mankind 

 One Lord, one Father ! Error has no place : 

 One song employs all nations'; and all cry, 

 " Worthy the Lamb ! for he was slain for us!" 



" Behold the measure of the promise fill'd; 

 See Salem built, the labour of a God ! 

 Bright as the sun the sacred city shines ; 

 All kingdoms, and all princes of the earth 

 Flock to that light. Thy rams are there, 

 Nebaioth ; and the flocks of Kedar there : 

 The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, 

 And Saba's spicy groves pay tribute there. 



