XX.
〈♫〉〈♫〉 LOrd thou who beauty canst return To them
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〈♫〉〈♫〉 LOrd thou who beauty canst return To them
〈♫〉〈♫〉 that mourn; And the disguis'd pretext of Art, To truth convert; O let us not by shews beguil'd, Seem pure without, within defil'd. Within, where most deform'd we are, Be our first care: Then with clear eyes, the Church, we may, And State survey. Our hearts, our spirits, Lord, re∣new, That we thy dictates may pursue.
〈♫〉〈♫〉 Upon our foul disorders, bred By them who (led With rage) to purge us under∣tooke, With pitty looke. Quench thou the fire that Factions raise, From Reformations specious blaze. As their division, Lord, proclaims Their weak bad aims; So let us (in those fires refin'd) In love be join'd; From passions freed: blest with
〈♫〉〈♫〉 increase Of inward vertue outward peace.