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The Holy Catholic Church. 135
Where grief shall never wound, nor death
Disturb the Saviour's reign ; Nor sin, with pestilential breath,
His holy realm profane :
The land, where, (suns and moons unknown,
And night's alternate sway,) Jehovah's ever-burning throne
Upholds unbroken day :
The land, (for Heaven its bliss unseen
Bids earthly types suggest,) Where healing leaves and fadeless green
Fruit-laden groves invest:
Where founts of life their treasures yield
In streams that never cease ; Where everlasting mountains shield
Vales of eternal peace :
Where they who meet shall never part;
Where grace achieves its plan ; And God, uniting every heart,
Dwells face to face with man.
Thomas Gisborne. 1803.
Hark, 'tis a martial sound !
To arms, ye saints, to arms !
Your foes are gathering round,
And peace has lost its charms: Prepare the helmet, sword, and shield; The trumpet calls you to the field.
No common foes appear To dare you to the fight, But such as own no fear And glory in their might: