APOLOGY

Nor scorn the aid which Fancy oft doth lend

The Soul's eternal interests to promote:

Death, darkness, danger, are our natural lot;

And evil Spirits may our walk attend

For aught the wisest know or comprehend;

Then be good Spirits freeto breathe a note

Of elevation; let their odours float

Around these Converts; and their glories blend,

The midnight stars outshining,or the blaze

Of the noon-day. Nor doubt that golden cords

Of good works, mingling with the visions, raise

The Soul to purer worlds: and who the line

Shall draw, the limits of the power define,

That even imperfect faith to man affords?