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Are midft the thunders of his throne! | My voice (if tun'd); the nerve, that writes, fufNoelione a rebel univerfe!

es up in arms! not one exempt! Yttor the fouleft of the foul he dies." Beard every heart and every bofom burn! Cita kale of miracles is here! It round, high-planted on the skies; rgimit loft beyond the thought angel: Oh that I could climb tul afcent, with equal praife! t, cordial, conftant, to high heaven Ngant than Arabia facrific'd; Apicy mountains in a flame.

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4 209. Proje, bylowed on Men, due to Heaven. Fou courts and thrones return, apostate pofel

tute! to thy first love return.

thy greateft, once, unrivall'd theme. tay fountain; to that parent power, Waves the tongue to found, the thought to

to be. Men homage pay to men, beneath whole dreadful eye they ave profound of clay to clay, [bow, gut, and turn their backs on thee, whom thrones celeftial ceafeless fing. femption, of man's awe for man! scr! end! reftorer! law! and judge! day thine, and thine this gloom of

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wealth, with all her radiant worlds:
ternal, but a frown from thee?
es meridian glory, but thy fmile?
raife be thine? not human praife,
high hoft on Hallelujahs live?

§ 212 Marience and Omniprefence of the Deity.
the no longer, than I breathe
Marife to him, who gave my foul,
And eininite of profpect fair,

the thades of hell, great love! by thee!
that praife begin,which ne'er thould

The I turn, what claim on all applaufe!
night's fable mantle labour'd o'er,
** wrought, with attributes divine!
cathines! what love! This midnight

ous arch, with golden worlds inlay'd, divine ambition! nought to thee: this profufion: thou apart, Avond! oh tell me, mighty mind, Wethou? fhall I dive into thedeep? Clean, or ask the roaring winds,

Creator? fhall I queftion loud
Then, if in that th' Almighty dwells?
Oralite furious forms in ftreighten'd reins,
And bidserce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car?
Wat mean these questions?-trembling 1

retract;

pirate foul adores the prefent God: Pale la diftant Deity? He tunes

tains;

Wrapp'd in his being, I refound his praise :
But tho' paft all diffus'd, without a shore,
His effence: local is his throne (as meet),
To gather the difperft, to fix a point,
A central point, collective of his fons,
Since finite every 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 laft! pavilion'd high he fits
In darkness, from exceffive fplendour born.
His glory, to created glory, bright
As that, to central horrors; he looks down
On all that foars; and fpans immenfity..

$211. Inability of fufficiently praising God. Down to the centre fhould I fend my thought, Thro' beds of glittering ore, and glowing

gems,

Their beggar'd blaze wants luftre for my lay;
Goes out in darkness: if, on tow'ring wing,
Theftars, tho' rich, what drofs their gold to thee,
I fend it thro' the boundless vault of ftars;
Great! good! wife! wonderful! eternal King?
If thofe confcious-ftars thy throne around,
Praife ever-pouring, and imbibing blifs,
I ask their ftrain; they want it, more they want;
Languid their energy, their ardour cold,
Indebted ftill, their highest rapture burns;
Short of its mark, defective, tho' divine,

Still more This theme is man's, and man's
alone:

On earth a bounty, not indulg'd on high; -
Their vaft appointments reach it not; they fee
And downward look for heaven's fuperior praife.
Firft-born of æther! high in fields of light!
View man, to fee the glory of your God!
You fung creation (for in that you shar'd),
How rofe in melody, the child of love!
Creation's great fuperior, man! is thine;
Thine is redemption; eternize the fong!
Redemption! 'twas creation more fublime;
Redemption! 'twas the labour of the skies;
Far more than labour-It was death in heaven.
Here pause and ponder: was there death in

heaven?
[blow?
What then on earth? on earth which struck the
Whoftruck it? Who?-O how is man enlarg'd,
Seen thro' this medium! How the pigmy tow'rs!
How counterpois'd his origin from dust!
How counterpois’d, to duft̃ his sad return!
How voided his vaft diftance from the fkies!
How near he preffes on the feraph's wing!
How this demonstrates thro' the thickest cloud
Of guilt, and clay condens'd, the fon of heav'n!
The double fon; the made, and the re-made!
And thall heaven's double property be loft?
Man's double madness only can deftroy him,
To man the bleeding crois has promis'd all;
The bleeding crofs has fworn eternal grace:
Who gave his life, what grace fhail he deny?
O ye, who from this Rock of Ages leap
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Difdainful,

Difdainful, plunging headlong in the abyfs!
What cordial joy, what confolation ftrong,
Whatever winds arife, or billows roll,
Our intereft in the mafter of the ftorm [fmile.
Cling there, and in wreck'd nature's ruins
While vile apoitates tremble in a calm.

§ 212. Mian.
MAN! know thyself; all wisdom centres there.
To none man feems ignoble, but to man;
Angels that grandeur, men o`erlock, admire:
How long fhall human nature be their book,
Degenerate mortal! and unread by thee?
The beam din reafon fhed's fhews wonders there;
What high contents! illuftrious faculties!
But the grand comment which displays at ful
Our human height, fearce lever'd from divine.
By heaven compose, was publish'd on the cross!
Who locks on that, and fees not in himleif
An awful franger, a terreftrial god?
A glorious partner with the Deity
In that high attribute, immortal life!
I gaze, and as I gaze, my mounting foul
Catches ftrange fire, eternity! at thee.

He, the great father! kindled at one flame
The world of rationals; one fpirit pour'd
From fpirit's awful fountain: pour'd himfelf
Thro' all their fouls; but not in equal fiream:
Profufe, or fugal of th' infpiring God,

As his wife plan demanded: and when paft
Their various trials in their various pheres,
If they continue rational, as made,
Retorbs them all into himself again;

[crown.

[fing?

His wrath inflam'd? his tenderness on fire
Can prayer, can praife avert it ?-Thou, m
My theme! my infpiration! and my crow
My ftrength in age! my rife in low eftate
My foul'sambition, pleafure, wealth!--my w
My light in darknefs! and my life in deat
My boat thro' time! blifs thro' eternity!
Eternity too fhort to ipeak thy praife,
Or fathom thy profound of love to man!

214. God's Love to Man.

O now omnipotence is loft in love!
Father of angels! but the friend of man!
Thou, who didit fave him, fnatch the imo

brand

From out the flames, and quench it in thy b
How art thou pleas'd, by bounty to diftrets
To make us groan beneath our gratitude,
To challenge,, and to diftance, all return!
Of lavish love ftupendous heights to foar,
And leave praife panting in the diftant val
But fince the naked will obtains thy fmile,
Beneath this monument of praise unpaid,
Forever lie entomb'd my fear of death,
And dread of ev'ry evil, but thy frown.

Oh for an humbler heart and loftier fong!
Which melted o'erdoom'd Salem, deign tolo
Thou, my much-injur'd theme! with thaticit
Companion to the coldness of my breast;
And pardon to the winter in my strain,

§ 215. Luke waru Devotion.

His thr ne their catre, and his fimile their On ye cold hearted, frozen formalifts!
Why doubt we then the glorious truth to On fuch a theme 'tis impious to be calm;
Angels are men of a fuperior kind;
Shall Heaven which gave us ardour, and
Its own for man fo ftrongly, not difdain [the
What smooth emollients in theology,
Recumbent virtue's downy doctors preach,

Angels are men in lighter habit clad,
High o'er celeftial mountains wing'd in flight:
And men are angels, loaded for an hour,

Who wade this miry vale, and climb with pain,That prole of piety, a lukewarm praife?

And flippery step, the bottom of the steep:
Yet fummon'd to the glorious ftandard foon,
Which flames eternal crimson thro' the fkies.

§ 213. Religion.

RELIGION's all. Defcending from its fire
To wretched man, the goddess in her left
Holds out this world, and in her right, the next:
Religon! the fole voucher man is man:
Supporter fole of man above himself.

Keligion! providence! an after state!
Here is firm footing; here is folid rock;
This can fupport us; all is fea befides;
Sinks under us; beftorms, and then devours.
His hand the good man faftens on the skies,
And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl.

Religion! thou the foul of happiness;
And groaning Calvary of thee! There thine
The noble truths; there ftrongeft motives iting!
Can love allure us? or can terror awe?

He weeps the falling drop puts out the fun
He fighs the figh earth's deep foundation
If, in his love, fo terrible, what then [thakes.

Rife cdours tweet from incente uniafiam'd?
Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout.

216. Death, where is thy Sting? OH when will death (now ftinglefs), like friend,

Admit me of that choir? Oh when will deat
This mould'ring, old partition-wall thro
Give beings, one in nature, one abode? [dow
Ch death divine that gives us to the skies,
Great future! glorious patron of the palt,
And preient, when fhall I thy fhrine adore?
From Nature's continent immenfely wide,
Immentely bleft, this little ifle of life

Divides us. Happy day, that breaks our chai
That re admits us, thro' the guardian hand
Of elder brothers, to our Father's throne;
Who hears our Advocate, and thro' Lis wound
Beholding man, allows that tender name,
'Tis this makes Chriftian triumph, a comman
is this makes joy a duty to the wife.
Hait thou ne'er feen the cornet'sflaming figh
Th' Llaftrious ftranger paffing, terror theds

Ogagnations, from his fiery train
katnormous, takes his ample round
Trof ether, coafts unnumber'd worlds
Cermin folar glory; doubles wide

saghty cape, and then revifits earth,
fom the long travel of a thousand years,
Thus at the deltin'd period, thall return
de on earth, who bids the comet blaze;
Aat with him all our triumph o'er the tomb.

Faith enforced by our Reason.
Natus dumb on this important point:
a precarious in low whisper breathes:
As aloud, diftinct, even adders hear,
Be and dart into the dark again.

sa bridge across the bridge of death, In the fhock blind nature cannot shun, thought imoothlyon the farther fhore. terror is the mountain Faith removes;

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ntain barrier between man and peace: Tafata difarms deitrustion; and abfolves Emery clamorous charge the guiltless tomb. Wouldit thou difbelieve?"tis Reason

Ad Reafon."-Hold her facred ftill;

want a rival in thy flame. heart is thine: Deep in its folds, with life; live dearer of the two. Ma rebaptis'd me, when adult;

They draw pride's curtaino'er the nood-tide ray
Spike up their inch of reafon, on the point
Of philofophic wit, call'd argument,
And then exulting in their taper: cry,
"Behold the fun:" and, Indian-like, adore.

Talk they of morals? O thou bleeding Love!
Thou maker of new morals to mankind!
The grand morality is love of thee.
A Chriftian is the higheft ftyle of man.
And is there, who the blefied crofs wipes off
As a foul blot from his dishonour'd brow?
If angels tremble, 'tis at fuch a fight:
The wretch theyquit,defponding of their charge,
More ftruck with grief or wonder, who can tell?

true and falfe in her impartial fcale;
that choice, which once was but my

paadis faith: and unpurfu'd
Aproof, that,
invites, 'tis reafon then no more;
or our faith is right,

§ 219. The mere Man of the World.
YE fold to fenfe, ye citizens of earth,
(For fuch 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 with, it comes; he fends it back,
"And fays, he call'd another; that arrives,
"Meets the fame welcome; yet he ftill calls on,

Till one calls on him, who varies not his call, "But holds him faft,in chains of darknefs bound, "Till nature dies. and judgment fets him free: "A freedom. far lefs welcome than his chain."

But grant man happy; grant him happy long;
Add to life's highest prize her latest hour;
Than hour fo late, comes on in full career':
How fwift the fhuttle flies, that weaves thy
throud!

Where is the fable of thy former years? [thee
Thrown down the gulph of time; as far from

Grand Heaven defiga'd it wrong: /As they had ne'er been thine; the day in hand

A? What then is blafphemy? F, and juftiy fond of faith, demands our first regard, our'd, as the daughter dear:

Rat lair Faith is but the flow'r: fowihall die; but Reafon lives

sher Father in the fkies.

the Chriftian,think

not reafon yours:

A great Mafter holds fo dear;

3njur'd rights his wrath refents.

24 how the realon of a ma;
dare the pleasure of a God;
on the tomb:

ok with triumph

Like a bird struggling to get loofe, is going;
Scarce now poffett, fo fuddenly 'tis gone;
And each swift moment fied, is death advanc'd
By frides as fwift: Eternity is all;
And whofe eternity? Who triumphs e?
Bathing for ever in the font of blifs?
For ever bafking in the Deity!

Confcience reply, O give it leave to speak;
For it will speak ere long. Oh hear it now.
While ufeful its advice, its accents mild.
Truth is depofited with man's last hour;
An honeft hour, and faithful to her truft.
Truth, eldest daughter of the Deity;

Son's wounds alone, thy faith can die; Truth,of his council when he made the worlds,

ag,tentoid terrors gives to Death,

Venom his twice-mortal fting.

218. Falje Philofopby.

Norlefswhen he thall judge the worlds he made,
Tho' filent long, and fleeping ne'er fo found,
Than from her cavern in the foul's abyfs,
The goddefs burfts in thunder and in flame,

Lace what honours due to those who "Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die."

Calde; thofe friends to reafon,

3. Love tabs

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every joy, and leaves

§ 220. NIGHT V. Darkness.

LET Indians, and the gay, like Ind ans, fond

heighten'd gnawing on his heart. Of feather'd fopperies, the fun adore:

mus fons of reafon idoliz'd,

id at once; of reafon dead,

ended, as monarchs were of old.

Darkness has more divinity for me:

It ftrikes thought inward, it drives back the foul
To fettle on herself, our point fupreme!

V of truth thro'all their camp refounds There lies our theatre; there fits ou judge.

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Dark

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Darkness the curtain drops o'er life's dull scene;
'Tis the kind hand of Providence ftretcht out
'Twixt man and vanity; 'tis Reason's reign,
And Virtue's too; thefe tutelary fhades
Are man's afylum from the tainted throng.

§ 221. The Futility of Man's Refolutions.
VIRTUE for ever frail, as fair below,
Her tender nature fuffers in the crowd,
Nor touches on the world, without a stain :
The world's infectious; few bring back at eve
Immaculate the manners of the morn.

Something we thought, is blotted; we refolv'd,
Is fhaken; we renounc'd, returns again.
Each falutation may flide in a fin
Unthought before, or fix a former flaw.
Nor is it ftrarge, light, motion, concourse, noife,
Ail fcatter us abroad; thought outward bound,
Neglectful of our home affairs, flies off
In fume and diffipation, quits her charge,
And leaves the breaft unguarded to the foe.

§ 224. Little to be expected from Man.
WHAT are we! how unequal! now we fo
And now we fink: how dearly pays the fo
For lodging ill; too dearly rents her clay!
Reafon. a baffled counfellor! but adds
The blufh of weakness to the bane of woe.
The nobleft fpirit fighting her hard fate,
In this damp, dufky region,charg'd with sto
But feebly flutters, yet untaught to fly.

'Tis vain to feek in men for more than n Tho' proud in promife, big in previous thou Experience damps our triumph. I, who la anerging from the fhadows of the grave, Threw wide the gates of everlafting day, And call'd mankind to glory, down I rush In forrow drown'd-But not, in forrow, lo How wretched is the man, who never mourn dive for precious pearls, in forrows ftren Not fo the thoughtless man that only grieve Takes all the torment, and rejects the gain, (Ineftimable gain !) and gives heaven leave To make him but more wretched, not more v

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$ 225. Wifiom.
§

222. The Power of Example.
PRESENT example gets within our guard,
And acts with double force, by few repell'd.
Ambition fires ambition; love of gain
Strikes like a peftilence from breast to breaft;
Riot, pride, perfidy, biue vapours breathe;
And inhumanity is caught from man;
From finiling man. A light, a tingle glance,This forager on others' wifdom leaves
And thot at random, often has brought home
A fudden fever to the throbbing heart,
Of envy, rancour, or impure defire.
We fee, we hear with peril; fafety dwells
Remote from multitude; the world's a fchool
Of wrong, and what proficients fwarm around!
We must or imitate, or difapprove;
Muft lift as their accomplices, or foes; [peace.
That ftains our innocence; this wounds our
From nature's birth, hence, wi'dom has beenfinit
With fweet recefs, and languifh'd for the fhade.

IF wifdom is our leffon, (and what else
Ennobles man? what eife have angels learnt
Grief, more proficients in thy fchool are m..
Than genius, or proud learning, ere could b
Voracious learning, often over-fed,
Digests not into fenfe her motley meal.

§ 223. Midnight.

Tris facred flade, and folitude, what is it?
'Tis the felt prefence of the Deity.
Few are the faults we flatter when alone:
Vice finks in her allurements, is ungilt,
And locks, like other objects, binck by night.
brht an atheift half believes a God.

Night is fair Virtue's in.c.orial triend;
The confcious moon, throu, hevery diftant age,
Has head a lamp to Witdom, and let fall
On contemplation's eye her pur_ing ray.
Hail, precious moments! ftol'n from the black

walte

Of murder'd time: aufpicious midnight hail!
The world excluded, every paffion huih'd,
And open'd a calm intercourfe with heav'n;
Here the foul fits in council, ponders past,
Predeftines future actions; fees, not feels,
Tumultuc us life; and reafons with the itorm;
Allerlies antwers,and thinks down hercharms.

Her native farm, her reafon quite untill'd:
With mixt manure the furfeits the rank fo
Dung'd, but not dreft; and rich to be gay
A pomp untameable of weed prevails: [mou
Her fervant's wealth encumber'd wifdom

And what lays Genius?"Let the dull be wi
It pleads ezemption from the laws of fenfe;
Confiders Reafon as a leveller,
And fcorns to share a blefiing with the crow
That wife it could be, thinks an ample claim
To glory, and pleasure gives the reff.
Wisdom lefs thudders at a fool, than wit.

But Wifdom fiviles, when humbled mert

weep.

When Sorrow wounds the breast, as ploughs t
globe,

And hearts obdurate feel her foftening fhew
Her feed celeftial, then glad Wifdom fows,
Her golden harvest triumphs in the foil.
If fo, I'll gain by my calamity,

And reap rich compenfation from my pain.
I'll range the plentcous intellectual field;
And gather every thought of fovereign powe
To chate the moral maladies of man; (k)
Thoughts, which may bear tranfplanting to t
Tho' natives of this coarfe penurious foil,
Nor wholly wither there, where feraph's fing
Refin'd, exalted, not annull'd in heaven.

§ 226. Reflections in a Church-yard. SAY, on what themes fhall puzzled choi defcend?

Th' importance of contemplating the tomb

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Why en decline it; Suicide's foul birth; Teraskinds of grief; the faults of age; Desdread character-invite my fong." ith impo.tance of our end furvey'd. Acan el quick difmiffion of our grief; Akhdnets! our hearts heal too foon. themore kind than He who ftruck the blow? What do his errand in our hearts, WALA peace, till nobler guetts arrive, Athick, a true, and endlefs peace? e friends: as glaring day

* mumber'd luftres robs our fight; thats out unnumber'd thoughts

tara, and light divine to man. as bwbleft, who, fick of gaudy scenes, *** to thruit between us and ourselves!)

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ke to take his favourite walk Deata's gloomy, filent, cyprefs fhades, Valdy's fantaftic ray; ruments, to weigh his dut, ts, and dwell among the tombs! with me Narci Ta's Itone; 10 ten derly can touch hert. What pathos in the date! an trike, and yet in them we fee of what we here enjoy. ave we to build on length of life? tize when fear is laid afleep; boded is our strongest guard. Lertomb, Truth fallies on my foul, Devica's dusky train to flight; he has our fultry pathons raile,

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Behold th' inexorable hour forgot!
And to forget it, the chief aim of life;
Tho' well to ponder it, is life's chief end.

§ 227.
Little Attention paid to the Warnings of
Death.
Is Death, that ever threat'ning, ne'er remote,
That all-important, and that only fure,
(Come when he will) an unexpected gneft?
Nay, tho' invited by the loudest calls
Of blind imprudence, unexpected still?
Tho' num'rous meffengers are fent before
To warn his great arrival. What the cause,
The wond'rous caufe, of this myfterious ill?
All heaven looks down astonish'd at the fight.

the real estimate of things, Da, unafflicted, ever faw; from Virtue's rifing charms; tion in a thousand lies. ak on men, as autumn's leaves, bet for, as the fummer's duit, dwind: lighted by her beams, zen, gain new powers, me, feel things remote, tuturities; think nought am, as the joys poifelt, ach is as thofe beyond the grave. ps its colour in her fight: dom lofes all her charms. diy widom, and divine ? wading and the waxing moon. wardly witdom every day; dy more fair her rival fhines.. term for wifdom is expir'd, fing fool is writ in fire, - wafts us the skies.

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e prefcribes the beft?-a friend's;

§ 228. Life compared to a Stream. Is it, that Life has fown her joys fo thick, We can't thruft in a fingle care between? Is it, that life has fuch a fwarm of cares, The thought of death can't enter for the throng? Is it, that time fteals on with downy feet, Nor wakes indulgence from her golden dream? To-day is fo like yesterday, it cheats; We take the lying filter for the fame. Life glides away, Lorenzo, like a brook; For ever changing, unperceiv'd the change. In the fame brook none ever bath'd him twice: To the fame life none ever twice awoke. We call the brook the fame; the fame we think Our life, though still more rapid in its flow; Nor mark the much irrevocably laps'd, And mingled with the fea. Or fhall we fay (Retaining fill the brook to bear us on)

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That life is like a veffel on the ream?

In life embark'd, we fmoothly down the tide
Of time defcend, but not on time intent;
Amus'd, unconscious of the gliding wave;
Till on a fudden we perceive a thock;
We start, awake, look out; our bark is burst.

Is this the caufe death flies all human thought!
Or is it judgment by the will ftruck blind,
That domineering miftrefs of the foul!
Or is it fear turns ftartied reafon back,
From looking down a precipice fo fteep?
'Tis dreadful; and the dread is wifely plac'd,
By nature confcious of the make of man.
A dreadful friend it is, a terror kind,
A flaming fword to guard the tree of life.
By that unaw'd, man on each pique of pride,
Or gloom of humour, would give rage the rein,
Bound o'er the barrier, rufh into the dark,
And mar the fchemes of Providence below.

§ 229. Suicide. WHAT groan was that? There took his gloomy flight,

On wing impetuous, a black fullen foul,
Blafted from hell, with horrid luft of death.
Thy friend, the brave, the gallant Altamont,
So call'd, fo thought-and then he fled the field.
Lefs bafe the fear of death, than fear of life.
O Britain !

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