And with divine complacency beheld
Pow'rs moft illumin'd, wilder'd in the theme.
The theme, the joy, how then fhall man sustain ? Oh the burft gates! cruih'd fting, demolish'd throne! Laft gafp! of vanquifh'd death. Shout earth and hea
This fum of good to man, whose nature, then,
Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb !
Then, then, I rofe; then firft bumanity
Triumphant paff'd the crystal ports of light,
(Stupendous gueft!) and feiz'd eternal youth;
Seiz'd in our name. Ere fince, 'tis blafphemous
To call man mortal. Man's
Was then, transferred to death; and heav'ns duration Unalienably feal'd to this frail frame,
-Man, all-immortal! hail : Hail, heav'n! all lavish of strange gifts to man Thine all the glory; man's the boundless blifs. Where am I rapt by this triumphant theme, On Chriftian joy's exulting wing, above Th'Aonian mount ?-Alas! fmall caufe for joy! What if to pain immortal! If extent Of being, to preclude a clofe of woe! Where then, my boaft of immortality? I boast it fill, though cover'd o'er with guilt: For guilt, not innocence, His life He pour'd. 'Tis guilt alone can juftify His death; Nor that, unless his death can juftify Relenting guilt in Heav'ns indulgent fight. If fick of folly, I relent; He writes
My name in Heav'n, with that inverted spear
(A fpear deep-dipt in blood !) which pierc'd His fide, And open'd there a font for all mankind,
Who ftrive, who combat crimes, to drink, and live.
This, only this, fubdues the fear of death.
And what is this?-Survey the wond'rous cure;
And at each step, let higher wonders rife :
"Pardon for infinite offence! and pardon
"hro' means, that fpeak it value infinite!
"A pardon bought with blood! with blood divine! . "With blood divine of Him I made my foe! "Perfifted to provoke! tho' woo'd and aw'd, "Bleft and chaftiz'd a flagrant rebel still! "A rebel 'midft the thunders of His throne! "Nor I alone; a rebel universe !
"My fpecies up in arms! not one exempt!
"Yet for the fouleft of the foul, He dies;
"Moft joy'd for the redeem'd from deepest guilt!!
"As if our race were held of highest rank;
"And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man!"
Bound, ev'ry heart! and, ev'ry bofom burn!
Oh what a fcale of miracles is here!
Its lowest round, high planted on the skies!
Its tow'ring fummit loft beyond the thought.
Of man or angel! Oh that I could climb
The wonderful afcent with equal praise !.
Praise! flow for ever, (if astonishment
Will give thee leave); my praise ! for ever flow.
Praise ardent, cordial, conftant; to high Heav'n
More fragrant than Arabia facrific'd,
And all her fpicy mountains in a flame.
So dear, fo due to Heav'n, fhall Praise defcend
With her foft plume, (from plausive angels wing
First pluck'd by man), to tickle mortal ears,
Thus diving in the pockets of the great?
Is Praise the perquifite of every paw,
Though black as hell, that grapples well for gold?
Oh love of gold! thou meaneft of amours!
Shall Praise her odours wafte on Virtues dead?
Embalm the bafe, perfume the ftench of guilt,
Earn dirty bread by washing Ethiops fair,
Removing filth or finking it from fight,
A fcavenger in scenes, where vacant posts,
Like gibbets yet untennanted, expect
Their future ornaments? From courts and thrones,
Return, apoftate Praise! thou vagabond!
Thou proftitute! to thy firft love return,
Thy firft, thy greateft, once unrivall'd theme.
There flow redundant; like Meander flow,
Back to the fountain; to that parent pow'r,
Who gives the tongue to found, the thought to foar,
The foul to be. Men homage pay to men,
Thoughtless beneath whofe dreadful eye they bow,
In mutual awe profound, of clay to clay,
Of guilt to guilt, and turn their backs on Thee,
Great Sire! whom thrones celeftial ceaseless fing!
To proftrate angles and amazing scene!
O the prefumption of man's awe for man!
Man's Author! End! Reftorer! Law! and Judge!
Thine, all; day Thine, and Thine this gloom of night,
With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds:
What, night.eternal, but a frown from Thee?
What, heav'ns meridian glory, but Thy fmile?
And fhall not praise be Thine? not human praife?
While Heav'ns high hoft on Hallelujahs live?
Oh may I breathe no longer, than I breathe
My foul in praife to Him, who gave my foul,
And all her infinite of profpect fair,
Cut through the fhades of hell, great Love! by Thee,
Oh moft adorable! moft unador'd
Where shall that praise begin, which ne'er fhould end
Where-e're Iturn, what claim on all applaufe!
How is Night's fable mantle labour'd o'er!
How richly wrought with attributes divine!
What wisdom fhines! what love! This midnight-pomp,
This gorgeous arch; with golden worlds inlaid!
Built with divine ambition! Nought to Thee;
For others this profufion: Thou, apart,
Above, beyond! Oh tell me mighty Mind!
Where art Thou? Shall I dive into the deep,
Call to the sun, or ask the roaring winds
For their Creator? Shall I queftion loud
The thunder, if in that th’Almighty dwells?
Or holds He furious storms in ftreighten'd reins,
And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car?
What mean thefe queftions!-Trembling I retract? My proftrate foul adores the present God.
Praife I a distant Deity? He tunes
My voice (if tun'd); the nerve that writes, fuftains ;
Wrap'd in His being, I refound His praife.
But though paft all diffus'd, without a fhore
His effence; local is His throne, (as meet),
To gather the difpers'd, (as ftandards call
The lifted from afar), to fix a point,
A central point, collective of His fons,
Since finite ev'ry nature but His own...
The nameless He, whofe nod is Nature's birth;
And Nature's fhield, the fhadow of His hand;
Her diffolution, His fufpended fmile:
The great First Last! pavillion'd high He fits.
In darknefs from exceffive fplendour borne,
By gods unfeen, unlefs through luftre loft..
His glory, to created glory, bright,
As that to central horrors: He looks down
On all that foars; and fpans immenfity.
Though Night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view ; ; Boundless creation! what art thou? a beam,
A mere effluvium of His majesty.»
And fhall an atom of this atom-world,
Mutter, in duft and fin, the theme of Heaven?
Down to the centre fhould I fend
Through beds of glitt'ring ore, and glowing gems;
Their beggar'd blaze wants luftre for my lay;
Goes out in darknefs. If, on tow'ring wing,
Ifend it through the boundless vault of fars; :
(The stars, though rich, what drofs their gold to Thee,
Great! Good! Wife! Wonderful! Eternal King!)
If to thofe conscious stars Thy throne around,
Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing blifs,
And ask their ftrain; they want it, more they want,
Poor their abundance, humble their fublime,
Languid their energy, their ardour cold;
Indebted ftill, their highest rapture burns
Short of its mark, defective, though divine.
Still more This theme is man's, and man's alone; Their vaft appointments reach it not; they fee
On earth a bounty not indulg'd on high;
And downward look for heav'n's fuperior praise!
First-born of æther! high in fields of light!
View man, to fee the glory of your God!
Could angels envy, they had envy'd bere;
And fome did envy; and the reft, though gods,
Yet ftill gods unredeem'd, (there triumphs man,
Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies)
They lefs would feel, though more adorn, my theme,
They fung Creation, (for in that they shar'd,)
How rofe in melody the child of love!
Creation's great fuperior, man! is thine;
Thine is redemption! They juft gave the key;
'Tis thine to raife, and eternize, the fong;
- Thou human, yet divine: For should not this
'Raise man o'er man, and kindle feraphs here?
Redemption! 'twas creation more fublime;
Redemption! 'twas the labour of the skies;
Far more than labour-it was death in heav'n.
A truth fo ftrange! 'twere bold to think it true.
If not far bolder still, to disbelieve.
Here paufe, and ponder-Was there death in heav'n? What then on earth? on earth which struck the blow? Who ftruck it? who?-O how is man enlarg'd, Seen through this medium! how the pigmy tow'rs? How counterpois'd his origin from duft! How counterpois'd, to duft his fad return! How voided his vaft diftance from the skies! How near he preffes on the feraph's wing? Which is the feraph? which the born of clay? How this demonftrates, through the thickeft cloud Of guilt, and clay condens'd the son of heav'n! The double fon; the made, and the re-made! And thall heav'n's double property be loft? Man's double madness only can destroy. To man, the bleeding crofs has promis'd all The bleeding crofs has fworn eternal grace Who gave his life, what grace fhall he deny:? O ye! who from this rock of ages, leap,
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