WHat unexpected damp is this we feel?
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A suddain stroak that makes our Sion Reel,
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Griefs Sable Livery the Godly wear,
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Each Cheek looks pale, each eye big with a Tear;
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The City eccho's with a dismal moan
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That speaks, our Chariot and our Horsmen gone,
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Caryl that powerful Soul-searching Divine
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In whom Learning and Grace did jointly shine,
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Whose grave discourse could make an Atheist quake
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And trembling sinners Hells broad Road forsake;
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The Tempest of a troubled spirit calm
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And heal a broken heart with sacred Balm;
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He, He is snatcht from hence beyond the Sphears
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And left us grov'ling in a vale of tears,
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At such a loss, that unrelenting Eye
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Is seven times worse than blind that can be dry;
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No more shall we his melting Sermons hear
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That peirc'd at once the Heart, and charm'd the Ear;
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His Pray'rs, which did so warm and holy come
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The Angels strove which first would bear them home,
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Nor shall we more behold his pious Life
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Free from Excess, Sloth, Avarice and Strife,
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That sweet Carriage, which did by practice teach
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And made him ev'ry day aloud to Preach,
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Now taken from his needful Office here
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When Harvest doth so great, and free appear;
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"Souls have a care, Husband your Mercies well
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"Let not Indulgence vainly make you swell
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"God shews if you grow wanton, pcoud and Kick
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"H'has other ways, to move your Candlestick,
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But though (blest Soul) we may his Loss deplore
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For our own sakes, for his we Tryumph more.
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After a tedious Pilgrimage was past,
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Spent in his Masters service till the last;
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