No War Or Battle Sound Was Heard

So Dear To Heav'n Is Saintly Chastity, That When A Soul Is Found Sincerely So, A Thousand Liveried Angels Lackey Her, Driving Far Off Each Thing Of Sin And Guilt, And In Clear Dream And Solemn Vision Tell Her Of Things That No Gross Ear Can Hear, Till Oft Converse With Heav'nly Habitants Begin To Cast A Beam On Th' Outward Shape.

Methinks I See In My Mind A Noble And Puissant Nation Rousing Herself Like A Strong Man After Sleep, And Shaking Her Invincible Locks; Methinks I See Her As An Eagle Mewing Her Mighty Youth, And Kindling Her Undazzled Eyes At The Full Midday Beam.

Truth Is Compared In Scripture To A Streaming Fountain; If Her Waters Flow Not In Perpetual Progression, They Sicken Into A Muddy Pool Of Conformity And Tradition.

How Oft, In Nations Gone Corrupt, And By Their Own Devices Brought Down To Servitude, That Man Chooses Bondage Before Liberty. Bondage With Ease Before Strenuous Liberty.

O Visions Ill Foreseen! Better Had I Liv'd Ignorant Of Future, So Had Borne My Part Of Evil Only.