To reft from wonders? other wonders rife ;
And strike where-c'er they roll: my foul is caught:
Heav'n's fov'reign bleffings, cluft'ring from the cross,
Rufh on her, in a throng, and clofe her round,
The pris'ner of amaze!-In his bleft life

I fee the path, and, in his death, the price,
And in his great afcent, the proof fupreme
Of immortality-And did he rife?
Here, O ye nations! hear it, O ye dead!
He rofe! he rofe! he burft the bars of death.
Lift up your heads, ye everlafting gates!
And give the King of glory to come in:
Who is the King of glory? He who left
His throne of glory, for the pang of death:
Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates!
And give the King of glory to come in.
Who is the King of glory? He who flew
The rav'nous foe, that gorg'd all human race!
The King of glory, He, whofe glory fill'd
Heav'n with amazement at his love to man;
And with divine complacency beheld
Pow'rs moft illumin'd, wilder'd in the theme.

The theme, the joy, how then shall man fuftain?
Oh the burft gates! crufh'd fting! demolish'd throne!
Laft gafp of vanquifh'd death. Shout earth and heaven!
This fum of good to man. Whofe nature, then,
Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb!
Then, then, I rofe; then firft humanity
Triumphant paft the cryftal ports of light,
(Stupendous guest!) and feiz'd eternal youth;

Seiz'd in our name. E'er fince, 'tis blafphemous
To call man mortal. Man's mortality

Was, then, transferr'd to death; and heav'n's duration.
Unalienably feal'd to this frail frame,

This child of duft,man, all immortal! hail;
Hail, heav'n! all-lavish of strange gifts to man!
Thine all the glory: man's the boundless bliss.
Where am I rapt by this triumphant theme,
On Christian 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 close of woe!

Where, then, my boast of immortality?

I boast it still, though cover'd o'er with guilt:
For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd;
'Tis guilt alone can justify his death;
Nor that, unless his death can justify
Relenting guilt in Heav'n's 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 strive, 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 wonder rise! • Pardon for infinite offence! and pardon 'Through means, that fpeak its value infinite! 'A pardon bought with blood! with blood divine! With blood divine of him, I made my foe!

• Perfifted to provoke! though woo'd, and aw'd, Bleft, and chaftis'd, a flagrant rebel still!

A rebel 'midft the thunders of his throne! • Nor I alone, a rebel universe!

6

My fpecies up in arms! not one exempt! "Yet for the fouleft of the foul, he dies.

• Most 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, every heart! and every bosom, burn!
Oh what a scale 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 eyer, (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, shall praise descend,
With her foft plume, (from plaufive angels wing
First pluck'd by man) to tickle mortal ears,
Thus diving in the pockets of the great?
Is praise the perquifite of ev'ry paw,

Though black as hell, that grapples well for gold?
Oh love of gold, thou meanest of amours!
Shall praise her odours wafte on virtue's deed,
Embalm the bafe, perfume the ftench of guilt,
Earn dirty breed by washing Ethiops fair,

Removing filth, or finking it from fight,

A scavenger in scenes, where vacant posts,
Like gibbets yet untenanted, expect

Their future ornaments? From courts and thrones,
Return, apoftate praife! thou vagabond!
Thou prostitute! to thy first love return,
Thy first, thy greatest, once unrival'd theme.
There flow redundant; like Meander flow,
Back to thy fountain; to that Parent Power,
Who gives the tongue to found, the thought to foar,
The foul to be. Men homage pay to men,
Thoughtless beneath whose 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 angels, an 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'n's meridian glory, but thy fmile?
And fhall not praise be thine! not human praife?
While heav'n's high host on hallelujahs live?

O may I breathe no longer, than I breathe
My foul in praise to him, who gave my foul,
And all her infinite of profpect fair,

Cut thro' the shades of hell, great love! by thee,

Oh most adorable! most unador'd!

Where fhall that praife begin, which ne'er fhould end?

F

Where-e'er I turn, 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? fhall I dive into the deep?
Call to the fun, or ask the roaring winds,
For their Creator? fhall I queftion loud -
The thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells?
Or holds HE furious ftorms in ftraiten'd reins,
And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car?
What mean these questions?-trembling I retract;
My proftrate foul adores the prefent GOD:
Praise I a diftant Deity? he tunes

My voice, (if tun'd;) the nerve, that writes, fuftains:
Wrapp'd in his being, I refound his praise:
But though paft all diffus'd, without a fhore,
His effence; local is his throne (as meet)
To gather the difperft (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-Laft! pavilion'd high he fits
In darkness from exceffive fplendor, borne,