Nor that, unless his death can justify

Relenting guilt in heav'n's indulgent sight.
If, sick of folly, I relent; he writes

My name in heav'n, with that inverted spear

(A spear deep-dipt in blood!) which pierc'd his side, And open'd there a font for all mankind,

Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink, and live: This, only this, subdues 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 "Thro' means that speak its value infinite! "A pardon bought with blood! with blood divine ! "With blood divine of Him, I made "Persisted to provoke ! tho' woo'd and aw'd, "Blest and chastis'd, a flagrant rebel still! "A rebel, 'midst the thunders of his throne ! "Nor I alone! a rebel universe!

my

foe!

My species up in arms! not one exempt! "Yet for the foulest 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, ev'ry heart! and ev'ry bosom, burn!

O what a scale of miracles is here!

Its lowest round, high planted on the skies;
Its tow'ring summit lost beyond the thought
Of man or angel! O that I could climb
The wonderful ascent, with equal praise!
Praise! flow for ever, (if astonishment

Will give thee leave) my praise! for ever flow;
Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high heav'n
More fragrant, than Arabia sacrific'd,

And all her spicy mountains in a flame.

So dear, so due to heav'n, shall praise descend,
With her soft 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 perquisite of ev'ry paw,

Tho' black as hell, that grapples well for gold?
Oh love of gold! thou meanest of amours!
Shall praise her odours waste on VIRTUE's dead,
Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt,
Earn dirty bread by washing Ethiops fair,
Removing filth, or sinking it from sight,
A scavenger in scenes, where vacant posts,
Like gibbets yet untenanted, expect

Their future ornaments? From courts and thrones,
Return apostate praise! 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 Pow'r,
Who gives the tongue to sound, the thought to soar,
The soul 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 back on thee,
Great Sire! whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing;
To prostrate angels an amazing scene!

O the presumption of man's awe for man!—

G

Man's Author! End! Restorer! 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 smile?
And shall not praise be thine, not human praise?
While heav'n's high host on hallelujahs live?

O may
I breathe no longer, than I breathe
My soul in praise to Him, who gave my soul,

And all her infinite of prospect fair,

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

Oh most Adorable! most Unador'd!

Where shall that praise begin which ne'er should end?

Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause!

How is night's sable mantle labour'd o'er,

How richly wrought with attributes divine!

What wisdom shines! what love! This midnight pomp,
This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlay'd!
Built with divine ambition! nought to thee;
For others this profusion: 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 question loud
The thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells?
Or holds HE furious storms in streighten'd reins,
And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car?

What mean these questions ?-Trembling I retract;
My prostrate soul adores the present God:
Praise I a distant deity? He tunes

My voice (if tun'd); the nerve, that writes, sustains:
Wrapp'd in his being, I resound his praise :
But tho' past all diffus'd, without a shore,
His essence; local is his throne (as meet),
To gather the disperst (as standards call
The listed from afar): to fix a point,
A central point, collective of his sons,
Since finite ev'ry nature but his own.

The nameless He, whose nod is nature's birth; And nature's shield, the shadow of his hand;

Her dissolution, his suspended smile!
The great First-Last! pavilion'd high he sits
In darkness from excessive splendor born,
By gods unseen, unless thro' lustre lost.
His glory, to created glory, bright,

As that to central horrors; he looks down
On all that soars; and spans immensity.

Tho' night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view,
Boundless creation! what art thou? A beam,
A mere effluvium of his majesty :

And shall an atom of this atom-world

Mutter in dust and sin, the theme of heav'n?
Down to the centre should I send my thought
Thro' beds of glitt'ring ore, and glowing gems,
Their beggar'd blaze wants lustre for my lay;
Goes out in darkness: if, on tow'ring wing,
I send it thro' the boundless vault of stars!
The stars, tho' rich, what dross their gold to thee,
Great! good! wise! wonderful! eternal King!
If to those conscious stars thy throne around,

Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing bliss;

And ask their strain; they want it, more they want,

Poor their abundance, humble their sublime,

Languid their energy, their ardor cold,

Indebted still, their highest rapture burns

;

Short of its mark, defective, tho' divine.

Still more-This theme is man's, and man's alone; Their vast appointments reach it not: They see On earth a bounty not indulg'd on high; And downward look for heav'n's superior praise! First-born of Ether! high in fields of light! View man, to see the glory of your God! Could angels envy, they had envy'd here; And some did envy; and the rest, tho' gods, Yet still gods unredeem'd (there triumphs man, Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies) They less would feel, tho' more adorn, my theme. They sung Creation (for in that they shar'd); How rose in melody, that child of love! Creation's great superior, man! is thine; Thine is redemption; they just gave the key: 'Tis thine to raise, and eternize, the song; Tho' human, yet divine; for should not this Raise man o'er man, and kindle seraphs here? Redemption! 'twas creation more sublime; Redemption! 'twas the labour of the skies; Far more than labour-It was death in heav'n. A truth so strange! 'twere bold to think it true; If not far bolder still, to disbelieve.