Those heavens are fairer than they seem,

There pleasures all sincere glide in its crystal rills,

There not a dreg of guilt defiles,

Nor guilt disturbs the stream:

There is no cursed soil, no tainted spring,

No roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting.

Watts.

HOLINESS.

Thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel.—Psalm xxii. 3.