Puslapio vaizdai

The World of Rationals; one Spirit pour'd
From Spirit's awful Fountain; pour'd Himself
Thro' all their Souls; but not in equal Stream,
Profufe, or frugal, of th' infpiring God,

As his wife Plan demanded; and when past
Their various Trials, in their various Spheres,
If they continue rational, as made,

Reforbs them all into Himself again;

His Throne their Centre, and his Smile their Crown.

Why doubt we, then, the glorious Truth to fing, Tho' yet unfung, as deem'd perhaps too bold? Angels are Men of a fuperior Kind;

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,
And flipp'ry Step, the Bottom of the Steep.
Angels their Failings, Mortals have their Praise;
While Here, of Corps ethereal, fuch enroll'd,
And fummon'd to the glorious Standard foon
Which flames eternal Crimson thro' the Skies.
Nor are our Brothers thoughtless of their Kin,
Yet abfent; but not abfent from their Love.
MICHAEL has fought our Battles; RAPHAEL fung
Our Triumphs; GABRIEL on our Errands flown,
Sent by the SOV'REIGN: And are thefe, O Man!
Thy Friends, thy warm Allies? and Thou (Shame burn
The Cheek to Cinder!) Rival to the Brute?


Religion's All. Defcending from the Skies

To wretched Man, the Goddess in her Left

Holds out this World, and, in her Right, the next ; Religion! the fole Voucher Man is Man;

Supporter Sole of Man above himself;

Ev'n in this Night of Frailty, Change, and Death,
She gives the Soul a Soul that acts a God.
Religion! Providence! an After-State!
Here is firm Footing; here is folid Rock;
This can fupport us; all is Sea 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.

As when a Wretch, from thick, polluted Air, Darkness, and Stench, and fuffocating Damps, And Dungeon Horrors, by kind Fate, difcharg'd, Climbs fome fair Eminence, where Ether pure Surrounds him, and Elysian Prospects rise, His Heart exults, his Spirits caft their Load; As if new-born, he triumphs in the Change; So joys the Soul, when from inglorious Aims, And fordid Sweets, from Feculence and Froth Of Ties terreftrial, fet at large, fhe mounts To Reafon's Region, her own Element, Breathes Hopes immortal, and affects the Skies.

Religion! thou the Soul of Happiness; And, groaning Calvary, of thee! There shine

The nobleft Truths; there ftrongest Motives fting:
There, facred Violence affaults the Soul;

There, nothing but Compulfion is forborn.

Can Love allure us? or can Terror awe?
He weeps!-the falling Drop puts out the Sun;
He fighs!—the Sigh Earth's deep Foundation shakes.
If, in his Love, fo terrible, what then

His Wrath inflam'd? his Tenderness on Fire ?
Like foft, fmooth Oil,, outblazing other Fires?
Can Pray'r, can Praise avert it ?-Thou, my All!
My Theme! my Inspiration! and my Crown!
My Strength in Age! my Rife in low Estate!
My Soul's Ambition, Pleasure, Wealth !—my World!
My Light in Darkness! and my Life in Death!
My Boaft thro' Time! Blifs thro' Eternity!
Eternity, too fhort to speak thy Praise !
Or fathom thy Profound of Love to Man!
To Man of Men the meaneft, ev'n to me;

My Sacrifice! my God!-what Things are Thefe!

What then art Thou? by what Name fhall Icall Thee? Knew I the Name devout Archangels ufe,

Devout Archangels fhould the Name enjoy,
By me unrival'd; Thoufands more fublime,

None half fo dear, as that, which tho' unfpoke,
Still glows at Heart: O how Omnipotence

Is loft in Love! Thou great Philanthropist !
Father of Angels! but the Friend of Man!
Like JACOB, fondeft of the younger born!


Thou, who didst save him, snatch the smoking Brand
From out the Flames, and quench it in thy Blood!
How art thou pleas'd, by Bounty to distress!
To make us groan beneath our Gratitude,
Too big for Birth! to favour, and confound
To challenge, and to distance, all Return!
Of lavish Love ftupendous Heights to foar,
And leave Praise panting in the distant Vale!
Thy Right too great defrauds Thee of Thy Due;
And facrilegious our fublimeft Song.

But fince the naked Will obtains thy Smile,
Beneath this Monument of Praise unpaid,
And future Life fymphonious to my Strain,
(That nobleft Hymn to Heav'n!) for ever lie
Intomb'd my Fear of Death! and ev'ry Fear,
The Dread of ev'ry Evil, but Thy Frown,

Whom fee I yonder, fo demurely smile?
Laughter a Labour, and might break their Rest.
Ye Quietifts, in Homage to the Skies!
Serene! of foft Addrefs! who mildly make
An unobtrufive Tender of your Hearts,
Abhorring Violence! who halt indeed;

But, for the Bleffing, wrestle not with Heaven!"
Think you my Song, too turbulent? too warm?
Are Paffions, then, the Pagans of the Soul?
Reafon alone baptiz'd? alone ordain'd

To touch Things facred? Oh for Warmer still!
Guilt chills my Zeal, and Age benumbs my Powers;


Oh for an humbler Heart, and prouder Song!

Thou, my much injur'd Theme! with that soft Eye,
Which melted o'er doom'd Salem, deign to look
Compaffion to the Coldness of Breaft;


And Pardon to the Winter in my Strain.



cold-hearted, frozen Formalifts!

On fuch a Theme, 'tis impious to be calm
Paffion is Reason, Tranfport Temper, here.
Shall Heav'n, which gave us Ardor, and has fhewn
Her own for Man fo ftrongly, not disdain
What smooth Emollients in Theology,
Recumbent Virtue's downy Doctors preach,
That Profe of Piety, a lukewarm Praife?
Rife Odours fweet from Incense uninflam'd?
Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout;
But when it glows, its Heat is ftruck to Heaven;
To human Hearts her golden Harps are ftrung;
High Heav'n's Orchestra chaunts Amen to Man.

Hear I, or dream I hear, their diftant Strain,
Sweet to the Soul, and tafting strong of Heaven,
Soft-wafted on celeftial Pity's Plume,

Thro' the vast Spaces of the Universe,
To chear me in this melancholy Gloom?

Oh when will Death (now ftinglefs), like a Friend, Admit me of their Choir? Oh when will Death, This mould'ring, old, Partition Wall throw down? Give Beings, one in Nature, one Abode?


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