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To Christian souls above and only there, The flames burn strongly and divinely clear. GOD there not dimly shadow'd from a glass. The saints shall see, but clearly face to face. There shall they shine, as when the rising ray O'er the glad other paints the golden day. And since 'tis death must bring me to that place, Where in full glory, thou unveil'st thy face; O thence dear Lord one drop of conford pour, To cheer my bosom, in that gloomy hour. Let me, triumphant with my latest breath Defy the grave, and mock the pangs of death. To me, O grave! No dread thy conquer bring. O death! thou boosest but a paintless sting. Jesus I see, in more inveiting charms, Come my dear Saviour, take me to thy arms. Which here below I dwell confin'd in clay, I'll wait my GOD in patience for that day.