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As he, now stooped in heavy age, uprose,
From his bowed knees; all spirits within the House,
Assembled, breathlings óf immortal Gods;
Sang, in their tongues, one harmony high divine:
To The ÁLL-I-AM, The ALL-IN-ALL, ALL-ONE,
The UNSEARCHABLE WHO the ALL, ALLWHERE, sustains.
The outpouring, 'bove all words articulate;
Of brief-lived souls, that seek as flowers to light:
Towards Heavens hígh hid, albe aye-shining Hope.
Beseeching thé remission of past guilts.
But I admonished ínwardly of the Voice;
To a curtained door withdrew me, únseen ere:
And souls saw issuing forth there, one by one:
But none, might I perceive, return again.
I following soon without; have nighed to place:

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Where drooping shivering souls; (as who unclothed
In cold,) stood on dark brink. Were spirits deceased,
This night-time in Dream-City, amidst their sleep.
I feared, till on a lintel which those passed:
I read, large-writ, in Everlasting Light;
Fear ye not Little Flock: and underneath,
Hath not Jeshûa said that God is Love.
(Words, which abide, a Perfume, in our hearts.)