That its sides may bear clusters of ripening bliss,
Which, in Autumn, shall melt into nectar like this,
Like this that now glows, &c.
Let it bear up the vessel that bringeth us o’er
Its freight of glad wine from some happier shore.
Let it run through each land that in ignorance lies:
It the Heathen will do very well to baptize.
Yes, water shall have ev’ry due praise of mine,
Whether salt, like the ocean, or fresh, like the Rhine.
Yes, praised to the echo pure water shall be,