English poem
To her Friend, M. J
by Anonymous
Let us, my Friend, all peevish Self withstand, And in the Meekness of the spotless Lamb, Lead one another gently by the Hand, And travel forward to the Holy Land, Where the Redeemed, on Mount Sion stand, With Harps of Living Praises in their Hand.
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- To His Grace the Duke of Argyle, upon Reading the Preamble to the Patent Creating Him Duke of Greenwich. by…
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