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Yet Once More
The heavens are shaken! not the solid earthBut the high heavens, the spirit's own abode;
Through the dark souls whence sin springs armed to birth,
The miracle of miracles is showed!
There mountains shake, there breaks a startling voice
Unknown amid its sinful depths before;
The guilty dare not, when it speaks, rejoice;
But fain within its presence would adore;
Fly! fly! it is the spirit's voice you hear,
It is an angel sent to thee from heaven,
To tell thee that the marriage feast is near,
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Oh haste! the robe, the robe of white put on,
E'er that for thee that moment shall be gone.
Poem No. 508; fall 1838–summer 1839
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