Where, think you, will the flock be found?
Death and destruction, I’m your man!
I’m fire and fury for the plan!
Thrill’d, agitated, nay, affected!
Providence prompted the design
That led me to your door to-night,
For sure, without the hint of mine,
Your plan had scarcely been projected,
Or, at the least, scarce seen the light!
And thus the Church, conceived aright,