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THE INFIRMARY.

CANTO I.

THE PLEASURES OF BENEVOLENCE.

B

ARGUMENT.

Now there is at Jerusalem, by the sheep-market, a pool, which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda (HOUSE OF MERCY), having five porches.

In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind,

halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water:

For an Angel went down at a certain season into the

pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first, after the troubling of the water, stepped in, was made whole of whatsoever disease he had. St. John, chap. 5.

THE INFIRMARY.

CANTO I.

THE PLEASURES OF BENEVOLENCE.

ANGEL of health! who, from thy blest abode,
Didst deign with wonted mercy to descend
Where famed Bethesda's hallow'd porches stood
Wide to the world of wretchedness, a friend;

And, mingling with its sacred waters, blend

The balm of life, sufficient for a while

Fresh youth through Palsy's quivering nerves to send, To light the cheek of Misery with a smile,

And of his prostrate prey e'en Death himself beguile :

Ah, what delight for one whose gentle heart,
Like thine, could sympathize with mortal woe,

To bear that high commission to impart

Joy to the groaning millions here below:

To ease the inward agonizing throe,

And from the long-worn, tear-drench'd pillow, raise The deep-despairing wretch, and bid to know

The sweet return of Health's delightful days;

And change the groans of anguish into shouts of praise!

Such thy terrestrial labours' lov'd account,
Spirit-whate'er in heaven thy place or name:

Whether thou watchest o'er its living fount,
Or light'st its portals with empyreal flame.

Yet surely those who emulate thy fame

In acts of charity and mercy shown

To misery here, when blest above, shall claim

Thee for their captain; round th' eternal throne, Among th' angelic hosts, the first in glory known.

SPIRIT of love divine! restoring all

That Eden's blissful bowers could e'er afford

To charm the soul of first-created man;

And raising up his faded fallen frame

To more than Eden's hopes, and Eden's joys: All hail triumphant MERCY! glorious word,

Unknown till wretched man had learn'd to drink

And drain the bitter of mortal woe,

cup

And feel himself undone !

Till that sad hour

He now by nature born to misery,

Cradled in Sorrow's lap and nursed in tears,

Was little less than angel. Blest he stood
In his Creator's image; conscious guilt
Had waked no terror in his peaceful heart,
Nor sin debased his beauty. Health and joy

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