F

With Pangs, ftrange Pangs! deliver'd of her Dead?
Hell howl'd; and Heav'n that Hour let fall a Tear;
Heav'n wept, that Men might fmile! Heav'n bled, that
Might never die !
[Man

And is Devotion Virtue? 'Tis compell'd:

What Heart of Stone, but glows at Thoughts like These?
Such Contemplations mount us; and fhould mount
The Mind ftill higher; nor ever glance on Man,
Unraptur'd, uninflam'd.-Where roll my Thoughts
To reft from Wonders? Other Wonders rife ;
And ftrike where-e'er they roll: My Soul is caught:
Heav'n's fov'reign Bleffings, cluft'ring from the Cross,
Rush on her, in a Throng, and close 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 Supreme
Of Immortality.And did He rife?
Hear, O ye Nations! hear it, O ye Dead!
He rofe! He rofe! He burft the Bars 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 left
His Throne of Glory, for the Pang 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 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 fhall Man fuftain ?
Oh the burst Gates! crush'd Sting! demolish'd Throne!
Laft Gafp! of vanquish'd Death. Shout Earth and Heav'n!
This Sun of Good to Man. Whofe Nature, then,

Took

Took Wing, and mounted with Him from the Tomb Then, then, I rofe; then first Humanity

Triumphant paft the Crystal Ports of Light,

(Stupendous Gueft!) 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 Clofe of Woe?
Where, then, my Boaft of Immortality?
I boaft it ftill, tho' cover'd o'er with Guilt;
For Guilt, not innocence, His Life he pour'd;
Tis Guilt alone can juftify his Death;
Nor That, unless His Death can justify
Relenting Guilt in Heav'n's indulgent Sight.
If, fick 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 ftrive, 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 rife!

"Pardon for infinite Offence! and Pardon

"Thro' Means, that fpeak its Value infinite! "A Pardon bought with Blood! with Blood Divine! "With Blood Divine of Him, I made my Foe! "Perfisted to provoke! tho' woo'd and aw'd,

"Bleft,

"Bleft, and chaftis'd, a flagrant Rebel ftill!
“A Rebel, 'midst the Thunders of his Throne!
"Nor I alone! a Rebel Univerfe!

"My Species up in Arms! not One exempt!
"Yet for the Fouleft of the Foul, He dies;
"Moft 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 Bofom, burn!
Oh 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! Oh that I could climb
The wonderful Afcent, with equal Praise !
Praife! flow for ever, (if Astonishment

Praife! for ever flow

;

Will give thee Leave) my
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, fhall Praise defcend,
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,

Tho' black as Hell, that grapples well for Gold?
Oh Love of Gold! thou meanest of Amours!
Shall Praife 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 finking it from Sight,
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

Thou Prostitute! to thy first Love return,
Thy firft, thy greateft, once unrival'd Theme.
There flow redundant; like Meander flow,

Back to thy Fountain; to that Parent Pow'r,

Who gives the Tongue to found, the Thought to foar,
The Soul to be. Men Homage pay to Men,
Thoughtless beneath whofe 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! 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 fhall not Praise be Thine? Not Human Praise ?
While Heav'n's high Hoft 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 Profpect 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 fhould end?. Where-e'er I turn, what Claim on all Applause!

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 inlay'd!
Built with divine Ambition! nought to Thee;
For Others this Profufion: 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

For their Creator? Shall I queftion loud

The Thunder, if in that th'Almighty dwells ?
Or holds he furious Storms in ftreighten'd Reins,
And bids fierce Whirlwinds wheel his rapid Car?

What mean thefe Questions?-Trembling I retract; My proftrate Soul adores the present God:

Praise I a distant Deity? He tunes

My Voice (if tun'd); the Nerve, that writes, fustains:
Wrap'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 (as Standards call
The Lifted 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 Diffolution, his fufpended Smile!
The great Firft-Laft! pavilion'd high he fits
In Darkness, from exceffive Splendor, borne,
By Gods unfeen, unlefs thro' Luftre loft.
His Glory, to created Glory, bright,
As that to central Horrors; He looks down
On all that foars; and fpans Immensity.

Tho' Night unnumber'd Worlds unfolds to View,
Boundless Creation! what art thou? A Beam,
A mere Effluvium of his Majefty:

And fhall an Atom of this Atom-World

Mutter, in Duft and Sin, the Theme of Heav'n ?
Down to the Centre fhould I fend my Thought
Thro' Beds of glitt'ring Ore, and glowing Gems,.
Their beggar'd Blaze wants Luftre for my Lay;
Goes out in Darkness: If, on tow'ring Wing,
I send it through the boundless Vault of Stars;
The Stars, tho' rich, what Drofs their Gold to Thee,

Great!