He is the freeman, whom the truth makes free,1 And all are slaves besides. There's not a chain, That hellish foes, confed'rate for his harm, Can wind around him, but he casts it off, With as much ease as Samson his green withes. He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compar'd With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own. His are the mountains, and the valleys his, And the resplendent rivers: his t' enjoy With a propriety that none can feel, But who, with filial confidence inspir'd, Can lift to Heav'n an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say- My Father made them all!" Are they not his by a peculiar right,
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy,
Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love, That plann'd, and built, and still upholds, a world So cloth'd with beauty, for rebellious man? Yesye may fill your garners, ye that reap The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good In senseless riot; but ye will not find In feast, or in the chase, in song or dance,
1 See Romans, vi. 22. John, viii. 32.
A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong, Appropriates nature as his Father's work, And has a richer use of yours than you. He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth Of no mean city1; plann'd or ere the hills Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea, With all his roaring multitude of waves. His freedom is the same in ev'ry state; And no condition of this changeful life, So manifold in cares, whose ev'ry day Brings its own evil with it, makes it less : For he has wings, that neither sickness, pain, Nor penury, can cripple or confine. No nook so narrow but he spreads them there With ease, and is at large. Th' oppressor holds His body bound, but knows not what a range His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain : And that to bind him is a vain attempt, Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells. Acquaint thyself with God 2, if thou wouldst taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before : Thine eye shall be instructed, and thine heart Made pure, shall relish, with divine delight Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought.
CHRISTIAN LIBERTY.
But there is yet a liberty3, unsung By poets, and by senators unprais'd,
Which monarchs cannot grant, nor all the pow'rs Of earth and hell confed'rate, take away:
A liberty, which persecution, fraud, Oppression, prisons, have no pow'r to bind; Which whoso tastes can be enslav'd no more. 'Tis liberty of heart deriv'd from Heav'n, Bought with His blood, who gave it to mankind, And seal'd with the same token. It is held By charter, and that charter sanction'd sure By th' unimpeachable and awful oath And promise of a God. His other gifts All bear the royal stamp, that speaks them his, And are august; but this transcends them all.
1 Hebrews, xii. 22. xiii. 14. 2 Job, xxii. 21. 3 See Romans, viii. 38.
His other works, the visible display1 Of all-creating energy and might,
Are grand no doubt, and worthy of the word, That, finding an interminable space Unoccupied, has fill'd the void so well,
And made so sparkling what was dark before. But these are not his glory. Man, 'tis true, Smit with the beauty of so fair a scene, Might well suppose th' artificer divine Meant it eternal, had he not himself Pronounc'd it transient, glorious as it is, And, still designing a more glorious far, Doom'd it as insufficient for his praise. These therefore are occasional, and pass; Form'd for the confutation of the fool, Whose lying heart disputes against a God 2; That office serv'd, they must be swept away. Not so the labours of his love: they shine In other heav'ns than these that we behold, And fade not. There is Paradise that fears No forfeiture, and of its fruits he sends Large prelibation3 oft to saints below. Of these the first in order, and the pledge, And confident assurance of the rest, Is liberty; a flight into his arms Ere yet mortality's fine threads give way, A clear escape from tyrannizing lust, And full immunity from penal woe.
REPRESENTING THE POET'S REPENTANCE, AND THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST.
I was a stricken deer, that left the herd Long since. With many an arrow deep infix'd My panting side was charg'd, when I withdrew To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. There was I found by one who had himself Been hurt by th' archers. In his side he bore, And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars. With gentle force soliciting the darts,
He drew them forth, and heal'd and bade me live. Since then, with few associates, in remote
4 Genesis, xlix. 23. Cowper alludes to this passage as typical of Christ.
And silent woods I wander, far from those My former partners of the peopled scene; With few associates, and not wishing more. Here much I ruminate, as much I may, With other views of men and manners now Than once, and others of a life to come. I see that all are wand'rers, gone astray Each in his own delusions; they are lost In chace of fancied happiness, still woo'd And never won. Dream after dream ensues; And still they dream that they shall still succeed, And still are disappointed. Rings the world With the vain stir. I sum up half mankind, And add two thirds of the remaining half, And find the total of their hopes and fears Dreams, empty dreams. The million flit as gay As if created only like the fly,
That spreads his motley wings in th' eye of noon, To sport their season, and be seen no more.
HUMAN LIFE. AN ALLEGORY.
Op'ning the map of God's extensive plan, We find a little isle, this life of man Eternity's unknown expanse appears Circling around and limiting his years. The busy race examine and explore
Each creek and cavern of the dang'rous shore. With care collect what in their eyes excels, Some shining pebbles, and some weeds and shells; Thus laden, dream that they are rich and great, And happiest he that groans beneath his weight. The waves o'ertake them in their serious play, And ev'ry hour sweeps multitudes away; They shriek and sink, survivors start and weep, Pursue their sport, and follow to the deep. A few forsake the throng; with lifted eyes Ask wealth of Heav'n, and gain a real prize, Truth, wisdom, grace, and peace like that above, Seal'd with his signet whom they serve and love1; Scorn'd by the rest, with patient hope they wait A kind release from their imperfect state, And unregretted are soon snatch'd away From scenes of sorrow into glorious day.
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