His effence; local is his throne (as meet),
To gather the disperst (as standards call
The lifted from afar): 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 shadow of his hand;
Her diffolution, his fufpended fmile!
The great Firft-Laft! pavilion'd high he fits,
In darkness from exceffive fplendor borne,
By gods unfeen, unless through luftre loft.
His glory, to created glory, bright,
As that to central horrors; he looks down
On all that foars; and spans immensity.
Though night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view, Boundlefs creation! what art thou? A beam,
A mere effluvium of his majefty:
And fhall an atom of this atom-world
Mutter, in duft and fin, the theme of heaven?
Down to the centre fhould I fend my thought
Through beds of glittering ore, and glowing gems,
Their beggar'd blaze wants luftre for my lay;
Goes out in darkness: if, on towering wing,
I fend it through the boundless vault of stars!
The ftars, though rich, what drofs their gold to thee,
Great! good! wife! wonderful! eternal King!
If to thofe confcious ftars thy throne around,
Praife ever-pouring, and imbibing blifs;
And ask their firain; they want it, more they want, Poor their abundance, humble their fublime,
Languid their energy, their ardour cold,
Indebted ftill, their highest rapture burns;
Short of its mark, defective, though divine.
Still more-This theme is man's, and man's alone; Their vaft appointments reach it not: they fee On earth a bounty not indulg'd on high;
And downward look for heaven's fuperior praise! 440 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 fome did envy; and the reft, though gods,
Yet ftill gods unredeem'd (there triumphs man,
Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies)
They lefs would feel, though more adorn, my
They fung Creation (for in that they shar'd):
How rose in melody, that child of love!
Creation's great fuperior, man! is thine;
Thine is redemption; they just gave the key:
'Tis thine to raife, and eternize, the fong;
Though human, yet divine; for fhould not this
Raise man o'er man, and kindle feraphs here?
Redemption ! 't was creation more fublime;
Redemption! 't was the labour of the skies;
Far more than labour-It was death in heaven.
A truth fo ftrange! 't were bold to think it true;
If not far bolder ftill to disbelieve!
Here paufe, and ponder: was there death in heaven? 460 What then on earth? On earth, which struck the blow? Who ftruck it? Who?-O how is man enlarg'd Seen through this medium! how the pigmy towers!
How counterpois'd his origin from dust !
How counterpois`d, to dust his sad return!
How voided his vast distance from the skies!
How near he preffes on the feraph's wing!
Which is the feraph? Which the born of clay?
How this demonftrates, through the thickeft cloud
Of guilt, and clay condens'd, the son of heaven! 470
The double fon; the made, and the re-made!
And thall heaven's double property be loft?
Man`s double madness only can destroy.
To man the bleeding cross has promis'd all ;
The bleeding cross has fworn eternal grace;
Who gave his life, what grace shall He deny?
O ye! who, from this Rock of ages, leap,
Apoftates, plunging headlong in the deep!
What cordial joy, what consolation strong,
Whatever winds arife, or billows roll,
Our intereft in the master of the ftorm!
Cling there, and in wreck'd nature's ruins fmile;
While vile apoftates tremble in a calm.
Man! know thyself. All wifdom centres there: To none man seems ignoble, but to man; 485 Angels that grandeur, men o'er-look, admire : How long shall human nature be their book, Degenerate mortal! and unread by Thee? The beam dim reason sheds fhews wonders There; What high contents! Illuftrious faculties ! But the grand comment, which displays at full Our human height, scarce fever'd from divine, By heaven compos'd, was publish'd on the Crofs.
Who looks on That, and fees not in himself
An awful ftranger, a terrestrial god ?
A glorious partner with the Deity
In that high attribute, immortal life?
If a God bleeds, he bleeds not for a worm:
I gaze, and, as I gaze, my mounting foul
Catches ftrange fire, Eternity! at Thee;
And drops the world—or rather, more enjoys:
How chang'd the face of nature! how improv'd!
What feem'd a chaos, fhines a glorious world,
Or, what a world, an Eden; heighten'd all!
It is another fcene! another felf!
And ftill another, as time rolls along;
And that a self far more illuftrious still.
Beyond long ages, yet roll'd up in fhades
Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray,
What evolutions of furprising fate!
How nature opens, and receives my foul
In boundless walks of raptur'd thought! where gods Encounter and embrace me! What new births
Of strange adventure, foreign to the fun;
Where what now charms, perhaps, whate'er exists, 515 Old time, and fair creation, are forgot!
Is this extravagant? Of man we form Extravagant conception, to be just:
Conception unconfin'd wants wings to reach him :
Beyond its reach, the Godhead only, more.
He, the great Father! kindled at one flame
The world of rationals; one spirit pour'd
From spirit's aweful fountain: pour'd himself
Through all their souls; but not in equal stream,
Profufe, or frugal, of th' aspiring 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 fmile their crown. 530 Why doubt we, then, the glorious truth to fing, Though 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 flippery 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 through 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 Sovereign: and are these, O man!
Thy friends, thy warm allies? and Thou (fhame 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;
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