As, When A Storm Hath Ceased, The Birds Regain Their Cheerfulness, And Busily Retrim Their Nests, Or Chant A Gratulating Hymn To The Blue Ether And Bespangled Plain; Even So, In Many A Re-Constructed Fane, Have The Survivors Of This Storm Renewed Their Holy Rites With Vocal Gratitude: And Solemn Ceremonials They Ordain To Celebrate Their Great Deliverance; Most Feelingly Instructed 'Mid Their Fear That Persecution, Blind With Rage Extreme, May Not The Less, Through Heaven'S Mild Countenance, Even In Her Own Despite, Both Feed And Cheer; For All Things Are Less Dreadful Than They Seem.