To The Soul
Dull soul aspire;
Thou art not earth. Mount higher!
Heaven gave the spark; to it return the fire.
Let sin ne'er quench
Thy high-flamed spirit hence;
To earth the heat, to heaven the flame dispense!
Turn, turn, each part a voice;
While to the heart-strings' tune ye all rejoice.
The house is swept
Which sin so long foul kept;
The penny's found for which the loser wept.
And, purged with tears,
God's image reappears.
The penny truly shows whose stamp it bears.
The sheep long lost,
Sin's wilderness oft crossed,
Is found, regained, returned. Spare, spare no cost!
'Tis heaven's own suit;
Hark how it woos you to't.
When angels needs must speak, shall man be mute?