From Clay, and Mire, and Dirt, my Soul,

From vile and common Ore,

Thou must ascend; taught by the Toll

In what fit place thou mayst adore;

Refin'd by fire, thou shalt a bell

Of Prais becom, in Mettal pure;

In Purity thou must excell,

No Soil or Grit endure.

Refin'd by Lov,

Thou still abov

Like them must dwell, and other Souls allure.

Doth not each trembling Sound I hear

Make all my Spirits dance?

Each Stroak's a Message to my Ear

That casts my Soul into a Trance

Of Joy: They're us'd to notify

Religious Triumphs, and proclaim

The Peace of Christianity,

In Jesus holy Name.

Authorities

And Victories

Protect, increas, enrich, adorn the same.

Kings, O my Soul, and Princes now

Do prais His holy Name,

Their golden Crowns and Scepters bow

In Honor of my Lord: His Fame

Is gon throu-out the World, who dy'd

Upon the Cross for me: And He

That once was basely crucify'd

Is own'd a Deity.

The Higher Powers

Hav built these Towers

Which here aspiring to the Sky we see.

Those Bells are of a piece and sound,

Whose wider mouths declare

Our Duty to us: Being round

And smooth and whole, no Splinters are

In them, no Cracks, nor holes, nor flaws

That may let out the Spirits thence

Too soon; that would harsh jarring caus

And lose their Influence.

We must unite

If we Delight

Would yield or feel, or any Excellence.