Holds out this World, and in her Right, the next;

Religion! the fole Voucher Man is Man

Supporter fole of Man above himself;

;

Even 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 support us; all is Sea besides,
Sinks under us; beftorms, and then devours.
His Hand the good Man faftens on the Skies,
And bids Earth rowl, 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 discharg'd, Climbs fome fair Eminence, where Ether pure Surrounds him, and Elyfian Profpects 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, the mounts,
To Reason's Region, her own Element,
Preaths Hopes immortal, and affects the Skies.

Religion! thou the Soul of Happiness : And groaning Calvary, of thee! There shine The noblest Truths; there strongest 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, so terrible, what then

His Wrath inflam'd? his Tenderness on Fire? Like foft, smooth Oyl, outblazing other Fires? Can Prayer, can Praise avert it? Thou, my All!

My

My Theme! my Inspiration! and my Crown!
My Strength in Age! my Rife in low Estate!
My Soul's Ambition, Pleasure, Wealth!---myWorld!
My Light in Darkness! and my Life in Death!
My Boaft thro' Time! Blifs thro' Eternity;
Eternity, too short to speak thy Praise!

Or fathom thy Profound of Love to Man!

To Man, of Men the meaneft, even to me;

My Sacrifice! my God! ----what things are These?

call Thee?

What then art Thou? by what Name shall I Knew I the Name devout Arch-angels use, Devout Arch-angels fhou'd the Name enjoy, By me unrival'd; Thousands more fublime, None half fo dear, as that, which tho' unspoke, 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,

Thou, who didst fave him, snatch the smoaking 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 stupendous Heights to foar,
And leave Praife 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 noblest Hymn to Heaven!) for ever lye
Intomb'd my Fear of Death! and every Fear,
The Dread of every Evil, but thy Frown.

Whom fee I yonder, fo demurely fmile? Laughter a Labour, and might break their rest.

Ye

Ye Quietists, in Homage to the Skies!

Serene! of foft Addrefs! who mildly make-
An unobtrusive 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 Pow'rs; 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 my Breast;

And Pardon to the Winter in my

Strain.

Oh ye cold-hearted, frozen, Formalists! On fuch a Theme, 'tis impious to be calm; Paffion is Reafon, Tranfport Temper here ;

Shall