Loud hallelujahs raise to heaven,
And with one voice His praise proclaim.
Then music, queen of every art,
O still thy matchless powers employ;
Since none like thee can peace impart,
And none like thee awaken joy.
[CHAPTER XXI.]
’Tis true indeed, there’s danger in delay,
Then let us speed, and hasten far away;
For what of fear, or what of doubts molest,