Tis this makes joy a duty to the wife;

'Tis impious in a good man to be fad.

675

See thou, Lorenzo! where hangs all our hope?
Touch'd by the Cross, we live.; or, more than die;
That touch which touch'd not angels; more divine
Than that which touch'd confufion into form,
And darkness into glory; partial touch!
Ineffably pre-eminent regard!

680

685

Sacred to man, and fovereign through the whole
Long golden chain of miracles, which hangs
From heaven through all duration, and fupports
In one illuftrious and and amazing plan,
Thy welfare, nature! and thy God's renown;
That touch, with charm celestial, heals the foul
Diseas'd, drives pain from guilt, lights life in death,
Turns earth to heaven, to heavenly thrones transforms
The ghaitly ruins of the mouldering tomb.

695

Doft ask me when? When he who dy'd returns ; Returns, how chang'd! Where then the man of woe ? In glory's terrors all the Godhead burns; And all his courts, exhaufted by the tide Of deities triumphant in his train, Leave a ftupendous folitude in heaven; Replenish'd foon, replenish'd with increase Of pomp, and multitude; a radiant band Of angels new ;, of angels from the tomb.

Is this my fancy thrown remote; and rife Dark doubts between the promise and event? I fend thee not to volumes for thy cure; Read Nature; Nature is a friend to truth;

G 3

700

Nature

Nature is Chriftian; preaches to mankind;
And bids dead matter aid us in our creed.
Haft thou ne'er feen the comet's flaming flight?
Th' illuftrious ftranger pafling, terror fheds
On gazing nations; from his fiery train
Of length enormous, takes his ample round

705

715

720

Through depths of ether; coafts unnumber'd worlds, 710
Of more than folar glory; doubles wide
Heaven's mighty cape; and then revifits earth,
From the long travel of a thousand years.
Thus, at the deftin'd period, fhall return
He, once on earth, who bids the comet blaze:
And, with Him, all our triumph o'er the tomb.
Nature is dumb on this important point;
Or hope precarious in low whisper breathes;
Faith fpeaks aloud, diftinct; ev'n adders hear;
But turn, and dart into the dark again.
Faith builds a bridge across the gulph of death,
To break the fhock blind nature cannot fhun,
And lands thought fmoothly on the farther fhore.
Death's terror is the mountain faith removes;
That mountain barrier between man and peace. 725
'Tis faith difarms deftruction; and abfolves
From every clamorous charge, the guiltlefs tomb.
Why disbelieve? Lorenzo!" Reason bids,
All-facred reafon."-Hold her facred ftill;
Nor fhalt thou want a rival in thy flame:
All-facred reafon! fource, and foul, of all
Demanding praife, on earth, or earth above!
My heart is thine: deep in its inmost folds,

56

730.

Live thou with life; live dearer of the two.
Wear I the bleffed Cross, by fortune ftamp'd
On paffive nature, before thought was born?
My birth's blind bigot! fir'd with local zeal !
No; reafon re-baptiz'd me when adult;
Weigh'd true, and falfe, in her impartial fcale;
My heart became the convert of my head

735

740

And made that choice, which once was but my fate. «On argument alone my faith is built :"

Reafon purfu'd is faith; and, unpursued

Where proof invites, 'tis reason, then, no more:
And fuch our proof, That, or our faith is right, 745
Or reafon lies, and heaven defign'd it wrong:
Abfolve we This? What, then, is blafphemy?
Fond as we are, and justly fond, of faith,
Reason, we grant, demands our first regard;
The mother honour'd, as the daughter dear.
Reafon the root, fair faith is but the flower;
The fading flower fhall die; but reafon lives
Immortal, as her Father in the fkies.

When faith is virtue, reafon makes it fo.

;

750

Wrong not the Christian; think not reason yours: 765
'Tis reafon our great Master holds fo dear
'Tis reafon's injur'd rights His wrath resents;
'Tis reafon's voice obey'd His glories crown;

To give loft reafon life, He pour'd his own:
Believe, and fhew the reason of a man ;
Believe, and tafte the pleasure of a God;
Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb :
Through reason's wounds alone thy faith can die;

G 4

760

Which

Which dying, tenfold terror gives to death,
And dips in venom his twice-mortal sting.

765

Learn hence what honours, what loud paans, due

To thofe, who push our antidote afide;
Those boafted friends to reafon, and to man,

Whofe fatal love ftabs every joy, and leaves

Death's terror heighten'd, gnawing on his heart. 770 Thefe pompous fons of reafon idoliz'd

And vilified at once; of reafon dead,

Then deify'd, as monarchs were of old;

What conduct plants proud laurels on their brow?
While love of truth through all their camp refounds, 775
They draw pride's curtain o'er the noon-tide-ray,
Spike up their inch of reason, on the point
Of philofophic wit, call'd Argument;

And then, exulting in their taper, cry,

"Behold the fun :" and, Indian-like, adore.

780

Talk they of morals? O thou bleeding Love!

Thou maker of new morals to mankind!

The grand morality is love of Thee.

As wife as Socrates, if fuch they were,

(Nor will they 'bate of that fublime renown) As wife as Socrates, might juftly stand

785

The definition of a modern fool.

A Christian is the highest ftile of man :

And is there, who the blessed Cross wipes off,
As a foul blot from his difhonour'd brow?
If angels tremble, 'tis at fuch a fight:

The wretch they quit, defponding of their charge,
More ftruck with grief or wonder, who can tell?

790

Ye

795

Ye fold to fenfe! ye citizens of earth! (For such alone the Christian banner fly) Know ye how wife your choice, how great your gain? Behold the picture of earth's happiest man :

"He calls his wifh, it comes; he fends it back, "And fays, he call'd another; that arrives, "Meets the fame welcome; yet he still calls on; 800 "Till one calls him, who varies not his call, "But holds him faft, in chains of darkness bound, «Till nature dies, and judgment sets him free ; "A freedom far lefs welcome than his chain." But grant man happy; grant him happy long; 805 Add to life's higheft prize her latest hour; That hour, fo late, is nimble in approach, That, like a post, comes on in full career : How swift the shuttle flies, that weaves thy fhroud ! Where is the fable of thy former years ? Thrown down the gulph of time; as far from Thee As they had ne'er been thine; the day in hand, Like a bird ftruggling to get loofe, is going; Scarce now poffefs'd, fo fuddenly 'tis gone;

810

And each swift moment fled, is death advanc'd

815

By ftrides as swift: Eternity is All;

And whofe Eternity? Who triumphs there?
Bathing for ever in the font of bliss!

For ever basking in the Deity!

Lorenzo! who?-Thy confcience shall reply.

O give it leave to speak; 't will speak ere long,

Thy leave unafk'd: Lorenzo! hear it now,

While useful its advice, its accent mild.

820

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