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shion and sustain The crooked serpent. But how small a part Of all its works are understood by us Dim dwellers in this lowly vestibule, And by the thunders of mysterious power Still held in awe. As the Eternal lives Who hath bow'd down my soul, as long as breath Inspires this mortal frame, these lips shall ne'er Utter deceit, nor cast away the wealth Of a good conscience. While I live I'll hold Fast mine integrity,--nor justify The slanderous charges of a secret guilt Ye bring against me. For what is the gain Of the base hypocrite when God shall take Away his perjured soul? Yourselves have seen How often in this life the wicked taste Of retribution. The oppressor bears Sway for a while,--but look!--the downfall comes. His offspring shall not flourish, nor his grave Be wet with widow's tears. The unjust rich man Heapeth up silver for a stranger's hand, He hoardeth raiment with a miser's greed To robe he knows not who, though he himself Had grudg'd to wear it. Boastfully he builds A costly mansion to preserve his name Among the people. But like the slight booth, Brief lodge of summer, shall it pass away. Terrors without a cause, disable him And drown his courage. Like a driven leaf Before the whirlwind, shall he hasten down To a dishonor'd tomb. Men shall rejoice, And clap their hands, and hiss him from his place When he departs. Surely, there is a vein For silver, and a secret bed for gold Which man discovers. Where the iron sleeps In darkest chambers of the mine he knows, And how the brass is molten. But a Mind Deeper than his, close-hidden things explores, Searching out all perfection. Earth unveils The mystic treasures of her matron breast, Bread for her children, gems like living flame, Sapphires, whose azure emulates the skies, And dust of gold. Yet there's a curtain'd path Which the unfettered denizens of air Have not descried, nor even the piercing eye Of the black vulture seen. The lion's whelps In their wide roaming, nor their fiercer sire Have never trod it. There's a Hand that bares The roots of mountains at its will, and cuts Through rifted rocks a channel, where the streams And rivers freely flow--an Eye that scans Each precious thing. But where doth Wisdom dwell? And in what curtain'd chamber was the birth Of Understanding?
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