LYRIC

To thy unspotted Shrine I bow,
Attend thy modest Suppliants vow.
Oh that Breaths no wild desires
Taught by thy unerring Rules
Heaven sent our end
The Dirt you tread will
surely open.
Gone to Dust and to Earth what words you trust will matterless
Thy Better Gifts will
I´m part each Moral Beauty of the Heart thy stubious thought Refined
An Empire over my mind
Show the wish of Fools a spire to Nobler views.

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