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Divine Image, The by William Blake To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love All pray in their distress; And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness. For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is God, our father dear, And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is Man, his child and care. For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human face, And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress. Then every man, of every clime, That prays in his distress, Prays to the human form divine, Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace. And all must love the human form, In heathen, Turk, or Jew; Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell There God is dwelling too |
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A Little Boy Lost by William Blake "Nought loves another as itself Nor venerates another so Nor is it possible to though A greater than itself to know "And, father, how can I love you Or any of my brothers more I love you like the little bird That picks up crumbs around the door. The Priest sat by and heard the child In trembling zeal he seized his hair He led him by his little coat And all admired the priestly care. And standing on the altar high "Lo, what a fiend is here! said he "One who sets reason up for judge Of our most holy mystery. The weeping child could not be heard The weeping parents wept in vain They stripped him to his little shirt And bound him in an iron chain And burned him in a holy place Where many had been burned before The weeping parents wept in vain Are such thing done on Albion's shore |
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Jerusalem by William Blake And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England's mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God On England's pleasant pastures seen? And did the Countenance Divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here Among these dark Satanic mills? Bring me my bow of burning gold: Bring me my arrows of desire: Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire. I will not cease from mental fight, Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant land |
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