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
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
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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