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Poem by William Cowper
Joy in Martyrdom
Sweet tenants of this grove! Who sing without design, A song of artless love, In unison with mine: These echoing shades return Full many a note of ours, That wise ones cannot learn, With all their boasted powers. O thou! whose sacred charms These hearts so seldom love, Although thy beauty warms And blesses all above; How slow are human things, To choose their happiest lot! All–glorious King of kings, Say why we love thee not? This heart, that cannot rest, Shall thine for ever prove; Though bleeding and distressed, Yet joyful in thy love: 'Tis happy though it breaks Beneath thy chastening hand; And speechless, yet it speaks, What thou canst understand.
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