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.