Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.

To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

Heaven open'd wide Her ever during gates, harmonious sound, On golden hinges moving.

Temper justice with mercy.

I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of death.

Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.