162 BAXTER'S POEMS. All hurtful, troubling things are there shut out, No wrathful sting, no malice, no dissent. Numberless numbers there are all but one, Of the same body, each a member is, Each hath his due degree -and place, but none A selfish, separated part of bliss. All have one God, one head, one vital spirit; All love God with one love ; and all rejoice With one joy; .all one kingdom do inherit, All sweetly sing God's/praise, as with one voice. True unity with difference well accords, And makes up beauty and concert; though there Self, numbers, many, and such parting words, Have not the same dividing sense as here. Thus hath one soul more than one faculty, One sun; 1each sort of life, three formal powers, Some image of the Divine Trinity ; But none on Earth so excellent as ours . .And as in being, so in more respects, Unity doth with number well agree, Many concauses have the same effects, Yea all God's creatures one and many be. So divers fruits are but part of one tree ; And every tree is rooted in one ground : All grounds of this one earth but parcels be, This earth a small part of the world is found. Souls are unseen, and so their union is, Many united individuals, Their distinct persons make some think amiss, That they are incoherent integrals.
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