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Poem by Jones Very
Day! I lament that none can hymn thy praise In fitting strains, of all thy riches bless; Though thousands sport them in thy golden rays, Yet none like thee their Maker's name confess. Great fellow of my being! woke with me Thou dost put on thy dazzling robes of light, And onward from the east go forth to free Thy children from the bondage of the night; I hail thee, pilgrim! on thy lonely way, Whose looks on all alike benignant shine; A child of light, like thee, I cannot stay, But on the world I bless must soon decline, New rising still, though setting to mankind, And ever in the eternal West my dayspring find.
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