This day, be Bread and Peace my Lot: 50 All elfe beneath the Sun, Thou know'ft if beft beftow'd or not, And let Thy Will be done. To thee, whofe Temple is all Space, All Nature's Incense rise !' The DYING CHRISTIAN V To his SOUL. ODE". I. ITAL fpark of heav'nly flame, II. Hark! they whifper; Angels fay, Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight, NOTES. a This Ode was written in imitation of the famous fonnet of Hadrian to his departing foul; but as much fuperior to his original, in fenfe and fublimity, as the Chriftian Religion is to the Pagan. 4 III. The world recedes; it difappears! FINI S. |